#HOWEVER.... this one is almost too chaste for the desperation of the moment it feels awkward | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thedamselzelda · 5 months ago

Text

Two Hearts Torn

Featuring: Fyodor Dostoevsky & Dazai Osamu

Summary: Broken, beaten, battered, and bruised. What keeps a heart from beating as one? For two, it's torn between losses and consequences of years past. However, in this twisted game, only calculated moves will stitch these hearts back together.

word count: 7.7k+, fem!reader, HOTD!reader, nsfw (oral sex m! receiving, unprotected sex, quick moment of domestic abuse [possessive Fyodor, very unhealthy relationship]), reader referred to with other names (no use of y/n), Russian words used (general meanings at the end), reader dissociates.

Author Chat: After an overwhelming poll, I have written another part of this story (tbh, I was a little too happy for it to win)! This part isn't as dark as I originally wrote it, as I couldn't bring myself to slander Fyodor too much. What can I say, the man is my #3 (behind my b-day buddy Chuya and my #1 Dazai ofc).

I also feel the need to mention before this part that this is an installment apart of the Beast AU. Yes, reader is married to Fyodor, however, the story is primarily a Dazai x reader story.

Hope you guys enjoy!

previous part ~ next part | LBH masterlist | BSD Masterverse

You stared at your reflection in the ornate vanity mirror, the face looking back at you feeling strangely unfamiliar. With delicate movements, you began to remove the bobby pins from your hair, allowing each strand to cascade onto your shoulders. Your eyes, a striking violet, searched your own gaze in the mirror, desperately grasping for clarity amidst the whirlwind of memories from the night. A weary sigh escaped your lips as you closed your eyes and rested your head in your hands, succumbing to the flood of memories about him. The lingering effect he had on you was both frustrating and thrilling, a contradiction that left you feeling dizzy.

There was no doubt in your mind about the reason for his visit - he came solely to see you. The realization sent a shiver down your spine. Yet, his unexpected question about what it would take for you to leave the House of the Dead, to abandon your husband, had caught you completely off guard, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

You extended your arm forward, observing the glistening ring on your finger. The alexandrite stone caught the dim light of your boudoir, its colors shifting mesmerizingly from a deep emerald to a rich purple as you turned your hand. Regret washed over you like a cold wave, seeping into your bones as you contemplated your choice of gem. The stone, his birthstone, now felt like a silent betrayal, a constant reminder of the man you couldn't forget, couldn't refrain from loving despite everything. Disgust rose in your throat, bitter and biting, as you berated yourself for not choosing a simple, neutral diamond instead. The realization that your heart had once again acted without your conscious consent left you feeling raw and exposed.

Your mind drifted to the circumstances of your marriage to Fyodor. The decision felt rushed, almost impulsive in hindsight. It served no real purpose for either of you beyond Fyodor's antiquated notion of propriety. His timid words echoed in your memory, tinged with an air of pious restraint:

"I could not lay with you unless we were wed..."

You rolled your eyes at the thought, irritation prickling beneath your skin like tiny needles. Initially, aligning yourself with Fyodor had been a calculated move, a way to strike back at Dazai and the unfair hand of cards you had been dealt in life. But over time, it had evolved into something more complex, a relationship built on stolen moments - chaste kisses on hands and lips, always restrained by his devout adherence to religious principles. His unwavering commitment to God frustrated you; for what cruel deity would curse you with such an ability?

The irony of your situation wasn't lost on you. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined yourself married, not even to Dazai. Life within the Mafia, and now in the House of the Dead, seemed incompatible with such conventional milestones. You had been content in your life with Dazai, before his gradual descent into whatever labyrinthine plans now consumed him.

Now, you found yourself in a precarious position. Isolated, you focused your efforts on seizing The Book from Dazai, the key to Fyodor's grand plan of overwriting this hellish reality. The weight of this mission hung heavy on your shoulders, a constant reminder of the complex web of loyalties, desires, and regrets that now defined your existence.

A soft click of your bedroom door stole you from your thoughts, your eyes shifting in the mirror to the figure entering your room. Fyodor's reflection appeared behind you, his rich purple eyes tired, as if he had paused his work to come and deal with you.

"Oh, moya lyubov', I wasn't expecting you." The lie slipped easily from your lips, even as you knew he would see through it. You had expected him, especially after how easily Nikolai had caught on to the change in your demeanor. Damn Nikolai...

"Moya zhena, I hear you've had quite the exciting day." His voice was smooth, yet laced with an undercurrent of something you couldn't quite place.

You made no indication of moving from your position as you looked up at Fyodor in the mirror. His weary smile was laced with fondness, yet you could detect icy undertones beneath the surface. He drifted over to you, his movements graceful despite his apparent exhaustion. His hands, cool and slender, came to rest upon your shoulders as he leaned down to place a kiss upon your undone hair.

His warm breath caressed your scalp, his lips parting as if on the verge of speech. Before he could utter a word, you smoothly began recounting your evening, carefully omitting any mention of Dazai's appearance.

"It was so tedious," you sighed, reaching for your makeup remover. "And now I'll have to get the carpet replaced." You dabbed at your face, the cool liquid erasing the traces of the night. Fyodor merely hummed in response, his intense gaze following your every movement.

"I suppose I'll have to search for a new group to take on the Port Mafia," you continued, your tone deliberately casual. "Maybe I should seek help from that Detective Agency. Perhaps they would work for the right price."

"No," Fyodor interjected sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. You turned; shock evident on your features. He had never disagreed with your suggestions before, always supporting your efforts to obtain The Book.

His knuckles grazed your cheek, sending an involuntary chill down your spine. His lips curled into a malicious smile, violet eyes glittering dangerously in the dim light.

"Moy dorogoy, you've never been a terrible liar," he purred, his voice silky smooth yet laced with venom. "However, the secrets you keep have always been so apparent."

Your eyes narrowed as you searched the storm brewing before you. Suddenly, his hand wrapped around your throat, swift and firm, forcing you to your feet. The pressure increased, making each breath a struggle.

His face hovered mere millimeters from yours, his breath fanning over your lips. "You forget yourself, moya zhena. You belong to me. I know every move you make here, malen'kaya mysh'."

A desperate squeak escaped you as you gasped for air, your fingers clawing at his hand. "I know, please," you managed to choke out.

"He was here tonight," Fyodor hissed, his eyes blazing. "And I hear you two did more than just talk."

He released you abruptly, causing you to stumble back. You massaged your throat, gulping in fresh air. After regaining your composure, a smirk played on your lips. "All this because I danced with him?"

In a fluid motion, the back of his hand struck across your face, swinging back up to grasp the back of your head firmly. His voice dropped to a menacing whisper, "He is still in love with you. From how you feign the mere mention of him, I would suspect that you, moya lyubyashchaya zhena, also still love him."

A pain sparked upon your lips as you smirked, a breathy laugh escaping as you slipped into Russian, "Budto. It's as you suggested; I have initiated another plan by indulging him in a dance is all."

His eyes softened slightly, his grip on your scalp loosening. "Speak."

"He wants me to come back, to rejoin the Mafia," you explained, the words flowing effortlessly. "We can use that. Let me slip back into his good graces. He's bound to eventually have me up in his office. There, I can do what none of those assassins could, and take The Book for ourselves."

His anger was quickly replaced at your obedience, a soft smile reappearing. "Chudesnyy, moya lyubov'. I believe that is a great plan."

His eyes darted to your lips, urging you to quickly grasp the collar of his white buttoned shirt and pulled him into a kiss. His eyes fluttered closed as he kissed you lightly. You could feel him reveling in your compliance. His hand drifted from the nape of your neck, down to your waist, pulling you flush to him. His lips danced among yours, fervently melting.

Your fingers deftly toyed with the hem of his pants, coaxing a chuckle from your lover’s lips. He hummed as your body pressed against his, your hands slipping past the cloth to grasp his hardened cock. You smile at his breathy moan by your mere touch, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

"What you do to me, ty lisitsa." His eyes trailed you as you dipped down to your knees. His fingers combed into your hair, pulling every last strand from your face. Your eyes panned to his as you pulled his pants down slightly to free his hardened, leaky member. One hand rested upon his hip, the other supporting him as your tongue slips out, barely brushing against his tip, tasting the salty cream from his slit. He hissed, rocking himself forward slightly to you. You hum, releasing his gaze, closing your eyes as you opened your mouth to fully take him in.

"Ugn, so beautiful, moya lyubov'." His praises reach your ears; his lips uttering your name, like a thankful prayer to his God above.

His tip reaches the back of your throat, and your eyes squeeze together to feign from gagging. You draw back slightly, barely parting your lips to allow your tongue to trail behind. Your hand pumping in your lips wake, applying gentle pressure.

He gathered your hair into one hand, using the freedom to brush a dripping tear from your cheek. "Takaya khoroshaya devochka."

Your lips close around his cock once more, dipping yourself to push your nose flush with his hips. You suppress a gag once more as your throat spasms against his length.

"I must have you, moya lyubov'," his voice shaky, nearly causing you to laugh at his submissive behavior. You don’t release him just yet, however, gently sucking as you bob upon him. His knees slightly buckle at your defiance, earning a tug of your hair, pulling you from him.

He pulls you to stand by your hair, a slight burn forming from the aggressive pull. He releases you, grasping at the vanity seat to shove it out of the way. You were next on his brief redecorating of your room. Grasping you firmly by your hips, eagerly pulling at the skirt of your formfitting dress and forcing it up to your waist. His hands roughly grip onto you before pushing you into the vanity.

You’re lifted by Fyodor to sit upon the cold surface, legs slotting open as he aggressively grasps your face to kiss you once more, as if it was his last dying breath. His member plays at your clothed cunt, slightly dripping from your arousal. His hand leaves your face, his fingers tugging at the cloth to pull it aside, aligning himself. He pulls at your waist once more, fixing the angle to allow himself to slide between your plush walls.

“Fuck!” You sharply exhale, your eyes slotting closed. Instinctively, you lurched forward to grasp onto him, and to rest your chin upon his shoulder. Your hands rested upon his nape and back, holding onto him as his hands gripped yours in a way that would leave bruises behind. His lips grazed your neck, leaving behind a trail of kisses and soft bites.

Your eyes slowly opened as his thrusts grew sloppier, evident of his impending release within you. Across from you, you saw your reflection in the closet mirror, allowing you to observe the explicit moment before you. However, your mind saw and heard different; the black hair entangled within your hands was brown and curly, the muffled, breathy moans against your neck were replaced with lowly grunts and words of praise, and the suit of the man before you became stained black.

You wanted to utter his name as you felt your release, like a call out to him to stay far away from the danger you would inflict upon him. Yet, you stifled the moan by biting your lip as you felt a warmth fill you to your core.

Fyodor sighed contently, releasing you from his harsh grip. He pulled his softening cock from your cunt, his seed dripping from you. He stepped to the side, observing his appearance within the mirror as he begins to fix himself before leaving you.

“I will get started on that plan tomorrow, moy dorogoy.” You utter as you slide from the vanity.

“Ochen' khorosho,” were his parting words to you as he began to leave for the door. You slip your dress back down, not worrying about the state of it. You notice as you look up that he is awaiting your attention before amending his last words. “See you in my next life, moy angel smerti.”

You give out a plain breathy laugh, “Till true death do us part, moya lyubov'.”

The pulsing energy of weekend nights had faded, replaced by the more subdued atmosphere of a weekday evening at The Midnight's Caress. Yet, even on these quieter nights, the club maintained a steady flow of patrons - a mix of devoted regulars and wide-eyed tourists drawn to its allure. Tonight, however, held special significance. A special visitor had arrived, someone who held a place in your heart from the days before Dazai's induction into the Port Mafia.

You made your entrance with practiced grace, descending from the second-floor terrace. Your presence commanded attention, drawing admiring glances from across the dimly lit space. Ignoring the adoration, your gaze remained fixed on your destination - the sleek bar opposite the sunken dance floor and stage.

A solitary figure occupied one of the barstools. Even from a distance, you recognized the familiar shock of unkempt auburn hair and the well-worn light brown overcoat. As you approached, you watched him raise an ornate crystal tumbler filled with amber liquid to his lips.

"And here I thought," you began, your voice carrying a hint of amusement as rich chocolate eyes met yours, “that you avoided lurking around Mafia territory at all costs, mister detective”

A warm smile spread across the man's face as he spoke your name, his tone tinged with fondness. “Well, if it's to see an old friend, I'm willing to take my chances.”

You feigned offense, placing your hands on your hips in mock indignation. “Sakunosuke Oda, did you just call me old?”

His head fell into a gentle shake, accompanied by a soft laugh that seemed to momentarily erase the tension from his features. You joined in his laughter, sliding onto the barstool next to him. While maintaining a careful distance, you positioned yourself to face outward, keeping a vigilant eye on the space between you and the stage.

Glancing sideways, you studied Oda's familiar profile, your gaze lingering on the amber liquid swirling in his glass. A mischievous glint sparked in your eye as you asked, your voice a playful whisper, "Did you pay for that?"

Oda's eyes met yours briefly, a flicker of amusement passing through them before he looked back down at the tumbler. His voice was steady, tinged with a hint of pride. "Of course."

You sighed, rolling your eyes in exaggerated exasperation. Leaning across the polished mahogany surface of the bar, you beckoned the blonde bartender with a subtle, elegant gesture. "Reimburse him," you commanded, your tone leaving no room for argument, the words crisp and authoritative in the dimly lit space.

"No, you don't have to do that," Oda protested, a faint blush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

Your response was swift and sharp, cutting through the ambient noise of the club. "He does if he would like to keep his job." The words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play in this world you both inhabited, albeit from different sides. You softened your tone slightly, adding, "My friends do not need to worry about such things here."

A teasing glint returned to Oda's eyes as he accepted his reimbursement. "Oh, you have friends now?" he quipped, his voice warm with familiarity."Oda!" You laughed, the sound genuine and unguarded. "I almost do want to make you pay now."

"That was the goal," he replied, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. He stuffed the money into his pants pocket before grasping his glass once more.

The bartender materialized behind you, placing an identical tumbler filled with amber liquid onto the bar. You gave the glass a cursory glance before turning your attention back to the club.

Oda's voice drew you back from your reverie, curiosity evident in his warm tone. "So, how is it, being a club owner?"

"Boring," you replied dryly, a hint of amusement in your eyes. "How is it, being a detective?"

"Anything but boring. I'm always doing something, it feels like," Oda responded, his voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction.

You nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing your face. Memories of your shared past flickered through your mind, a reminder of the complex relationship that bound you both.

Oda's voice softened as he continued, "We just recently recruited this boy."A breathy chuckle escaped your lips. "So, you've taken in another orphan. I swear, are you raising an army over there?"

Oda's rich laughter echoed within the glass at his lips, the sound warm and comforting. "It does seem like that, doesn't it?" He paused, his expression growing more serious. "I worry about this boy. I picked him up on the riverbank, and he attempted to attack me."

You listened intently, grateful for the chance to lend an ear to your friend's concerns. The ambient noise of the club faded into the background as you focused on Oda's words.

"I don't know what it is about this boy," Oda continued, his brow furrowing slightly. "He's in search of his sister... harbors the unruliest plans for this man that he describes as 'the man in black.'"

Your eyes widened slightly, and you turned to meet Oda's intrigued gaze. "This boy," you began cautiously, "does he have black hair? Two little tufts of white on the ends?"

Oda gave a hesitant nod, his hand now outstretched to offer you your glass. You accepted it carefully, the cool crystal a stark contrast to the warmth of realization spreading through you.

"Be careful of that boy. I remember his name clearly. Akutagawa Ryūnosuke." Your voice lowered, heavy with the weight of memory. You looked down at your glass, tapping your fingers along its surface rhythmically. "I was there when the Port Mafia found him, shortly before I left for Italy. There were plans to recruit him. However, it was determined... that he was unfit to join us."

Your eyes rose to meet Oda's, his face a careful mask hiding his thoughts. "There is a beast inside of that boy, Oda. I pray that you teach and guide him, to learn to tame it."

You paused, bringing the crystal glass to your lips for a sip. As the whiskey touched your tongue, your eyes widened in surprise. You pulled the glass back, glancing towards the shelves behind the bar. Your gaze settled on a familiar bottle, its amber contents glowing softly in the low light. You eyed it with a mixture of suspicion and resigned amusement. That snake, you thought, recognizing Dazai's handiwork in the choice of spirits.

Shaking your head slightly, you made a mental note to address that matter later. Your voice grew heavy with warning as you continued, "Or that beast will one day consume him. I've seen it near happen to the boy they did take in."

Oda's brow furrowed in concern. "I can agree; I share those thoughts exactly. Do you, by chance, know what happened to his sister?"

You gave a curt shake of your head, the movement causing the dim lights to dance across your features. "I know that the Port Mafia took her, however, I don't know what became of her."

Oda finished off the rest of the whiskey in his glass, the ice clinking softly as he set it before the bartender for a refill. "I see," he murmured, his voice tinged with disappointment.

A moment of contemplative silence fell between you, the ambient noise of the club fading into the background. You could feel Oda's gaze studying your face as you surveyed the array of guests for the evening, your eyes scanning the crowd with practiced ease.

"So, what happened with that?" Oda's question broke the silence, his hand gesturing towards his own lip and the side of his face.

"Oh," you replied, feigning ignorance about your appearance. You had attempted to cover the cut on your lip and the small bruise that had formed across your cheekbone from the night before. "Just an unruly guest. Unfortunate, and obviously for him, he didn't make it."

Oda hummed, a note of skepticism in his tone. It was clear he didn't fully believe the story you had fabricated. You huffed as you finished the rest of your glass, the warm liquid burning a path down your throat. Turning to him, you shifted the conversation once more. "What about your book? When will I be able to read the first draft?"

A soft smile graced Oda's features as he looked back down into his glass, swirling the amber liquid absently. "I've been having horrible writer's block. I know what I want to say, it's just getting it to paper that's the problem."

"Well," you gave a breathy chuckle, rising from your seat with fluid grace. His eyes met yours, a shared understanding passing between you. You both knew these encounters were rare and precious, a stark contrast to your shared youth. "You know where I'll be, ready to receive and critique. But to love it all the same."

"For the long wait, how about I dedicate it to you?" Oda offered, a hint of warmth in his voice.

You gave a warm smile, placing your hands upon your chest in dramatic adoration. The gesture was playful, but the emotion behind it was genuine. "Awe, Oda. You do care!"

Oda's head dipped down once more, his shoulders shaking with muffled laughter. You took a deep breath, the familiar ache of longing settling in your chest. More than anything, you wished you could embrace him, to feel the comfort of his brotherly affection that had been so freely given in your childhood. You knew deep down that he wished the same; on several occasions, he had forgotten the limitations of your ability, only to be reminded by Flawless.

"I have business I have to attend to, but you may stay as long as you like," you said, your voice softening with regret at having to cut the reunion short. You tapped the polished bar top twice, a silent signal to your bartender. He understood immediately, preparing your glass as well as a secondary pour of the whiskey you had been drinking.

Grasping the two crystal tumblers, the amber liquid catching the low light, you gave a final look to your dear friend. Your eyes lingered on his face, committing every detail to memory. "See you around, Odasaku," you said, the nickname slipping out unexpectedly.

Oda's eyebrows raised slightly, a quizzical look crossing his features at the unfamiliar moniker. You found yourself equally surprised, giving him a small shrug in response. The corner of his mouth tugged upward into a warm smile, and he raised his glass in a silent toast as you began to walk away.

Your heels clicked softly on the polished floor as you made your way back toward the staircase leading to your office. The weight of the glasses in your hands was a tangible reminder of the responsibilities waiting for you, pulling you away from this brief moment of connection. As you ascended the stairs, you could feel Oda's gaze following you, a bittersweet mixture of fondness and longing that mirrored your own emotions.

Dazai's keen eyes followed your figure as you made your way back up to your office. His gaze then darted to Oda, who was nodding to the bartender, offering thanks and sliding money across the polished bar top. A wry smile found its way onto Dazai's face as he admired Oda's persistence in compensating the man. He felt a familiar twinge of jealousy watching you two interact from afar, reminded of the bond you and Oda shared which transcended any version of yourselves.

Turning away from the window, Dazai met your gaze as you entered the office. The soft click of the door closing behind you seemed to punctuate the sudden shift in atmosphere.

"Thank you, Dimitri," you called out, your eyes never leaving Dazai's. He could tell by the set of your jaw that he was in trouble, especially noting the two crystal tumblers in your hands. You raised an eyebrow questioningly, holding up the glasses. "We've only reconnected for one night, and you decided to take it upon yourself to amend my liquor choices?"

Dazai suppressed a small laugh, gratefully accepting the offered glass. The crystal was cool against his fingers. "I only had Chūya go up to the bar and request a drink. When the bartender replied that you don't supply this brand, I had it ordered and shipped to you immediately."

He watched you roll your eyes, unamused but continuing to listen before objecting. The light from the desk lamp cast dramatic shadows across your face, emphasizing the slight furrow of your brow.

"What can I say? Something just told me I'd be back here sooner than expected, so I made a few liberties—"

"Liberties?" You scoffed, though there was a hint of amusement in your tone. You glided past him, the subtle scent of your perfume lingering in the air. Settling back into your chair, you continued, "You quite literally had my bartender stock something without my knowledge, most likely due to knowing it was the Port Mafia Boss's favorite."

Dazai savored the rich, smoky flavor of the whiskey as he took a long sip, a contented sigh escaping his lips. He gracefully lowered himself into one of the chairs facing your desk, his keen eyes noting how they seemed slightly out of place in the otherwise meticulously arranged office. During your absence, he had seized the opportunity to explore the room, his observant gaze catching details that others might overlook.

A rug, he deduced, had once adorned the space before your desk. Now, a faint square of fresh wood flooring, spanning no more than six feet, stood in stark contrast to the worn, darker planks surrounding it. At the center of this cleaned area, Dazai's sharp eyes detected a slightly darker outline. His mind, ever quick to analyze, immediately recognized the telltale signs of a bloodstain that had been hastily, if not entirely successfully, concealed. The discovery sent a small thrill through him.

"You enjoy the drink, too, don't lie. I saw you down there drinking it with Odasaku," Dazai said, his voice carrying a hint of familiarity he hadn't intended.

You gave Dazai a puzzled look, your brow furrowing slightly as you processed his words. He realized his slip immediately, watching as a flicker of confusion passed across your features. The usually composed demeanor he wore like armor had cracked, revealing an experience he hadn't been granted in this life.

"My apologies," he quickly corrected himself, his voice regaining its usual smooth rhythm. The words flowed like silk, masking his momentary lapse. "I had only heard you call him that a few times before you left. You always spoke fondly of the man who defected."

He observed intently as you silently began to question yourself, your hand reaching back to scratch your head in recollection of more than four years ago. The gesture was subtle, but to Dazai's keen eye, it spoke volumes about your inner turmoil. However, much to his relief, you quickly moved past the topic without dwelling on it further.

You set your drink down upon the polished surface of your desk, the crystal making a soft 'clink' against the wood. Clearing your throat, a confident smirk coated your peach-stained lips, the color a striking contrast against your skin in the warm light of the office.

"Besides the topic of my apparently new inventory," you said, emphasizing the word with a hint of playful accusation, "did you want to continue your losing game?"

Dazai chuckled, the sound low and rich. He leaned forward, the leather of the chair creaking slightly under his shifting weight. "I think you've forgotten, but I was winning."

A light laugh escaped you, the sound filling the room with a momentary lightness. "I had your queen for the taking. Without it, what even is the game?"

Dazai hummed thoughtfully, his mind racing through possibilities far beyond the chessboard. In his mind's eye, he saw not just chess pieces, but the intricate dance of allegiances and betrayals that defined their world. Indeed, his queen was cornered - both in the game and in life - but Dazai was nothing if not a master strategist. Just as you had been hasty to claim victory, he knew exactly how to turn the tides. His plan wasn't just to save a piece on a board, but to reclaim the Queen before him that he had lost to Fyodor's trickery.

His lips curled into a subtle, knowing smile. This game was far from over, and Dazai intended to win back what was rightfully his, piece by carefully manipulated piece. The anticipation built within him, not just for his next move in chess, but for the grand strategy that would bring you back to his side, away from Fyodor's influence.

Dazai's eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Ah, but you've overlooked something crucial," he said, his voice smooth and confident. “It's my turn, remember? And with just one move, I'll not only save my queen but put you in a rather precarious position."

He set his glass down and leaned forward, his fingers tracing invisible patterns on the desk as if recreating the chessboard. "My knight to F6. It simultaneously blocks your attack on my queen and threatens your bishop. Now, you're faced with a dilemma – do you capture my knight and leave your bishop vulnerable, or do you retreat and lose your advantage?"

A sly smile played on his lips as he continued, "In chess, as in life, it's not just about the pieces you have, but how you use them. Sometimes, a seeming disadvantage can be turned into a powerful opportunity with the right strategy."

His eyes met yours, the intensity in them suggesting he might be talking about more than just the game. "So, shall we continue? I'm quite curious to see how you'll respond to this... unexpected development."

You leaned back in your chair, a mixture of amusement and respect flickering across your features. A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you shook your head slightly, your eyes meeting Dazai's intense gaze.

"Well played, Dazai," you conceded, your voice carrying a note of admiration. "I should have known better than to underestimate you. Your knight to F6 is indeed a clever move."

You paused, your fingers drumming thoughtfully on the armrest as you visualized the board in your mind. After a moment, a sly smile crept onto your face. "However, you're not the only one with tricks up their sleeve. I'll move my rook to E4. It puts pressure on your knight and maintains the threat to your queen. Plus, it opens up a potential attack on your king's flank."

Leaning forward, you picked up your glass, and place it against your plump bottom lip. "In chess, as in our line of work, it's all about adapting to the unexpected, isn't it? One must always be prepared to shift strategies at a moment's notice."

You took a sip of the whiskey, savoring its rich flavor before continuing, "So, Dazai, what’s your move?"

Dazai's eyes narrowed slightly, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he considered your move. "Interesting," he murmured, taking a thoughtful sip. “In that case, I'll move my bishop to D3, threatening your rook while maintaining defense of my queen.”

The game continued, each of you calling out moves, the imaginary board shifting in your minds with every declaration. The office fell into a rhythm of quiet contemplation broken by decisive statements, the clink of ice in glasses punctuating each turn.

"Knight to C6," you said, your voice steady.

"Pawn to A4," Dazai responded smoothly.

As the imaginary pieces dwindled, the tension in the room grew. Finally, after what felt like hours compressed into minutes, you both fell silent, a mutual realization dawning.

"Well," you said, a mix of frustration and admiration in your voice, "it seems we've reached an impasse."

Dazai nodded, his expression mirroring yours. "Indeed. By my count, we each have a king, a rook, and two pawns left. Neither of us can make a legal move without putting our king in check."

"Stalemate," you both said in unison, then shared a quiet laugh at the synchronicity. As your laughter died down, Dazai couldn’t help but admire you. While it seemed much had changed about you within the last four or so years, you were still sharp, quick on your feet, and though your encounter before last with one another within the confines of his penthouse was heated, it was as though it never happened.

Dazai raised his glass in a toast. "To a game well played. It's not often I encounter an opponent who can match me move for move. I’ve missed doing this with you."

You clinked your glass against his. "Likewise, Dazai. This was fun."

Dazai's intense gaze bore into your violet eyes, searching once again for a shred of the girl that once loved him. He knew you had to still harbor something, given your willingness to allow him into your office just one night after reconnecting, although you had resisted at first. A heavy sigh escaped your lips amid the charged silence, your eyes darting down to his lips. He mirrored the action, his tongue unconsciously brushing across his top lip.

In the days of your shared youth, the victor of these mental chess matches would be granted one request, no limits ever set. Trust and honesty were once pivotal, sacred even. But after touching The Book, everything changed.

Dazai watched intently as you shifted in your plush leather chair, leaning forward to examine the documents he had laid before you earlier. Your slender fingers opened the tan folder, eyes scanning its contents. Nervous anticipation built within him as he awaited your reaction.

A scoff broke the silence. It was somewhat expected.

"You want to buy The Midnight's Caress?" You looked up, an exaggerated eye roll accompanying your words.

"You're already paying us to leave you and your business be. I thought it would make more sense to annex your club since you already serve many mafiosos," Dazai explained, his voice smooth and persuasive.

Your eyes returned to the proposition. Dazai had been uncharacteristically considerate; you would remain owner, permitted to run the club as you saw fit, retaining eighty percent ownership.

"Ninety," you countered, your gaze drifting up from the paper. With practiced ease, you opened a drawer within your ornate desk, fingers grasping for a sleek box of cigarettes. The soft scrape of the box opening filled the quiet room as you extracted a single cigarette. The flick of your lighter cast a brief, warm glow across your features as you lit it. You inhaled deeply, the ember glowing bright orange in the dim office. Exhaling a plume of smoke, you placed the cigarette delicately between your index and middle fingers before uttering your next argument. "Giving you twenty percent would be grossly over what I already give you, which I've already been quite generous with."

Dazai raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. Given the club's popularity and the financial records he'd meticulously reviewed, he'd calculated that twenty percent ownership would be a small sacrifice. Yet, he'd anticipated some resistance from you.

You held the box out to him, one cigarette poking out invitingly. He leaned forward, long fingers grasping the rolled tobacco. Rising smoothly, he placed the cigarette between his lips. Leaning over your desk, he pressed his unlit cigarette to yours. His eyes, intense and searching, locked with yours as he contemplated his counter.

"Giving twenty percent would include more than just protection, Bella," Dazai remarked, his voice low and smooth as he relaxed back into the chair.

You laced your fingers together, resting your elbows on the polished desk. Your eyes fluttered, the lit cigarette dangling slightly between your lips. "How much are you assuming I'm already giving for this protection?"

“I calculated that it was around twenty percent now.”

A laugh escaped your occupied lips, followed by a click of your tongue. "Twenty? Oh, moye temnoye zhelaniye, I give you way less than that."

Dazai jerked his head back in surprise, questions flooding his mind. How much did you actually give of your earnings? The only logical explanation was the records he had did not contain unreported earnings. Additionally, when did you learn to speak Russian? He had no idea what the phrase meant, but curiosity burned within him.

He watched, transfixed, as you rose from your seat with fluid grace. The soft rustle of your clothing seemed amplified in the hushed office; his senses hyper-aware of your every movement. He tracked your progress as you rounded the desk, his heart rate quickening with each step you took towards him.

When you perched upon the edge of the desk directly in front of him, Dazai felt a rush of heat betray him, crawling up his cheeks in a flush he couldn't quite control. He found himself looking up at you through his eyelashes, acutely aware of the power dynamic shift. The dim light of the office played across your features, casting shadows that accentuated the curves and angles of your face. Dazai's breath caught in his throat as he drank in the sight of you, commanding and alluring in equal measure.

He watched, mesmerized, as you took another leisurely puff from your cigarette. The ember glowed bright for a moment, illuminating your face in a warm, fleeting light that seared itself into his memory. With practiced ease, you blew the smoke out above you, creating a swirling haze that danced in the air between you. The sharp scent of tobacco mingled with your personal fragrance, an intoxicating mixture that seemed to cloud his senses.

As Dazai gazed up at you, he found himself making a silent vow. He would let you have anything you wanted - any percentage, any terms. All that mattered was that you allowed him to remain in your presence, to bask in the captivating aura you exuded.

"I give ten percent of my yearly earnings to you now, Dazai. You're basically asking I near triple that in my eyes, as it's not only money; it's ownership." Your voice carried a hint of steel beneath its smoothness, a reminder of the strength that had always drawn Dazai to you.

Dazai stood to meet your gaze, his movement fluid and deliberate. Your eyes darted from his visible eye down to his lips again as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Seventeen then.” The words hung in the air between you, charged with unspoken tension.

"You're good at a lot of things, Osamu, negotiating is apparently not one of them." You leaned further in, your breath warm against his skin.

He took a moment, relishing the closeness that you'd allowed once again. However, his keen eye caught sight of a cut upon your bottom lip and faint evidence of a bruise upon your cheekbone, which you had evidently tried to cover, which wasn't there the night before. He saw your eyes widen slightly, likely realizing he'd noticed the wounds marring your features. Before he could question you, you spoke again.

"I own the entire property as of right now. I even live upstairs." You took the cigarette from your mouth, gesturing with your fingers toward the area outside the office. Osamu recalled the elevator he'd noticed across from your office doors. That explained its presence. "You might as well buy the whole building, since it seems you're trying to buy me back into the mafia."

Osamu passively heard you, however, he couldn’t bring himself to reply to you just yet. His mind wouldn’t move past the subtle signs of abuse on your face. The cut on your lip, the faint bruise on your cheekbone - they weren't there last night. His heart clenched painfully in his chest, a mixture of worry and rage threatening to overwhelm him.

He reached out instinctively, his hand hovering near your face but not quite touching. He remembered how you used to flinch in worry of touching others, but you remained still, even slightly leaning toward his touch.

Finally, his voice whispered your name out, softer than he intended, "This isn't about buying you back into anything. Do you really think I'd try to manipulate you into a life you chose to leave?"

He watched your eyes, those stormy violet orbs that had once looked at him with such trust and affection. Now they seemed guarded, wary. It pained him more than he cared to admit.

"I respect your decisions," he continued, "even if I don't always agree with them. But those marks on your face, cara mia… they weren't there last night."

Osamu felt his hand clench at his side, anger surging through him at the thought of Fyodor laying a hand on you. He fought to keep his voice steady. "This isn't about ownership or percentages. It's about keeping you safe from a man who clearly doesn't value you the way he should. The way you deserve."

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging within him. He needed you to understand, to see beyond the business proposition to the genuine concern that drove his actions. Fyodor, in this life and every other, was not a man to be trusted, let alone be married to.

"I won’t ask you again to come back to the mafia. All I'm asking, is for you to let me protect you. Because right now, your independence is coming at a cost that's far too high."

Osamu’s unbandaged eye searched yours, silently pleading. He saw a flicker of something - vulnerability, perhaps - behind your carefully constructed walls. It gave him hope.

"Let me help you," he said softly. "Please."

In that moment, looking into your eyes, Osamu realized just how much he still cared for you; it was overwhelming. The thought of you in pain, of Fyodor hurting you, was unbearable. He knew he'd do whatever it took to keep you safe, even if it meant putting himself, his plans, in danger. Because despite everything that had happened, you were still one of the most important people in his world.

Osamu watched as your eyes widened slightly at his words, a mix of emotions flickering across your face. For a moment, your carefully constructed facade seemed to waver, revealing a glimpse of the vulnerability he once knew so well.

His breath caught as you reached up, your fingers gently brushing against his hand that hovered near your face. The touch was electric, sending a shiver through him. Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper when you spoke.

"Osamu... it's not that simple."

He held his breath, hoping for more, but you seemed to steel yourself before continuing. "I appreciate your concern, truly. But my life, my choices... they're complicated. More than you know."

Osamu felt a pang in his chest as you slid off the desk, putting a small distance between you. The internal struggle playing out in your eyes was painfully clear to him.

"Ten percent, if you buy the entire building," you said suddenly, your voice regaining its businesslike tone. "That's my final offer. And I maintain full operational control."

The abrupt shift back to business threw him for a moment, but he quickly recovered. He recognized your deflection for what it was - a shield, a way to avoid the deeper conversation you both knew you needed to have.

"Agreed," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "But this conversation isn't over. I won't stand by and watch you get hurt, no matter how complicated things are."

You nodded, a small, sad smile playing on your lips. "I know you won't. That's what makes you... you."

As you moved to return to your seat, Osamu caught the briefest flash of something in your eyes. Was it longing? Regret? Or perhaps something more calculating? He couldn't be sure, and it frustrated him. There was a time when he could read you like an open book, but now... now parts of you were a mystery to him.

Watching you settle back into your chair, Osamu began to feel a sharp pang of guilt. He knew he was being selfish, pursuing you when his time in this world was limited. The weight of his secrets - the truth about the Book and his inevitable fate - pressed heavily upon him. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to tell you, it would cost too much. Instead, he made a silent vow to protect you from Fyodor and his plans, and, if possible, win back your trust and affection, even if it was only for a brief moment in time.

As he gazed at you across the desk, Osamu felt a familiar warmth in his chest, accompanied by a sharp ache. Despite everything, despite the years and the pain and the complications, you were still one of the most important people in his world. And he would do whatever it took to keep you safe, even if it meant putting himself, his plans, in danger.

"With that matter settled," you said, a smile reappearing on your face as you extinguished your cigarette. "Would you like to try another game of chess? I'd understand if you say no, as assuredly going to win this time."

A rich laugh escaped through Osamu’s lips. "I'd like to see you try," he responded, his eyes gleaming with challenge and amusement.

The game was on, and Osamu intended to win.

previous part ~ next part | LBH masterlist | BSD Masterverse

Author Chat: This part took a lot out of me. Again, I had intended it to be much darker, as I see so many write Fyodor as this sweet, quiet man who's tenderly loving his s/o, but I was like "but what if...?" So, that's partly where the inspiration came from, because let's be honest, that man is dark and twisted (you know the looks like a cinnamon roll, will actually kill you).

If you liked, feel free to like and reblog <3 ~DamzelZelda

Song Inspos: Rule #34- Fish in a Birdcage Watch- billie eilish

Russian Word "Dictionary" (Curtesy of [unreliable] Google translate):

moya lyubov': "my love"

moya zhena: "my wife"

moy dorogoy: "my dear"

malen'kaya mysh': "little mouse"

lyubyashchaya: "loving"

budto: "as if"

chudesnyy: "marvelous"

ty lisitsa: "you vixen"

Takaya khoroshaya devochka: "such a good girl"

Ochen' khorosho: "very well"

moy angel smerti: "my angel of death"

moye temnoye zhelaniye: "my dark desire"

#bsd #bsd x reader #bsd x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #dazai x y/n #bsd dazai #beast dazai x reader #fydor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor #bsd fyodor x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor smut #bsd smut

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wanderingblindly · 5 months ago

Note

HI BABY 🫶🏻 welcome back from the mines of Migraine

may i please please pretty please request a directors cut of too close to touch? literally anything you want to talk about, i shall be seated

i love yooouuuu! x

thank you for welcoming me back to the land of the living, happy to be here etc etc

even HAPPIER to talk about this fic, lowkey I love Too Close To Touch and it was a haze of an experience lol

Some Backstory

Ok so this fic definitely partially came about because my goal for 2024, creatively speaking, is to stop telling myself I don't have the skills to finish certain ideas. Even if I don't execute them perfectly, I still want to push myself to put something together and get even an inch closer to learning how to make something I'll be happy with. This fic came about with that goal in mind.

I'm bad at writing kissing.

I will write an entire fic with kissing as the premise.

This makes perfect sense.

Most of my fics start with my fixating on one very specific scene. Or maybe even a fraction of a scene, a specific mannerism in one conversation. For this fic, the thing my brain latched on to was that moment in a makeout session where you're like.... you're not even really actively kissing anymore, you're just kind of breathing each other in with this open-mouthed desperation like you can't bear to separate yourselves.

So yes. A fic about kissing, and a fic about kissing that devolves into like, talking against each other's lips and breathing each other in. Sane.

My Favorite Lines

And Lando breaks. He breaks loud and hard. His hands fly to Oscar's hips, strong fingers digging in and forcing him down onto his lap with a punched out moan. "Fuck, Osc, I need –" Oscar's hands are already grasping both sides of his head, bringing their mouths together without a hint of delicacy, swallowing his words whole.

As I've mentioned before, I'm not able to see things in my head at all. Tragic. But when I wrote this bit, the immediacy of their movements played like a sound in my head; it's like I could hear the how quickly Oscar grabbed Lando's head, the sound of them pulling themselves together in the blink of an eyes.

Idk, I really loved how I conveyed the urgent pace here, I think.

"Cheater." Lando smiles, and Oscar's lips are back on his before he can get in another word. It's messy. Their mouths are open like they want to devour one another whole, far passed the stage of anything soft. Hell, beyond the point of anything even remotely appealing. It's sloppy, more hungry than sensual – Lando feels like he's trying to breathe him in, like he's trying to taste every piece of him.

This is the thesis. This is the feeling that I wrote this fic to describe, which doesn't always go according to plan. However!!! In this instance I think I nailed it.

In it's blushed innocence, its warm chasteness, it almost felt like a first kiss. He runs his clean fingers over his lips, chapped and sore. Oscar's face burns.

And finally, I thought the ending -- especially for a shoddily thrown together oneshot at 3am -- came together nicely. The shift in tone, the implication that Lando has more delicate feelings than we just saw, was an unexpectedly sweet ending that felt very... them. Like, of course these two idiots would need an excuse to make out on Lando's bed for god knows how long even though they wanted to do it the entire time. Losers. Love 'em though!

#THANK YOUUUUUUUUUU ANGEL!#too close to touch #directors commentary #ask me :)#landoscar

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izzy2210 · 1 year ago

Text

Clean-shaven

Based on @watercubebee's perfect perfect art, I love it so much I can't even, so here, a gift!

Hob is positively baffled when he finds his Dream in his bathroom, looking in the mirror, running his hands over his cheeks. “What are you- Is that a beard?” Dream nods, almost looking as surprised as Hob. “I think your, humanity, is rubbing off on me,” he studies himself in the mirror again, “I do not mind it, I think.” That makes Hob smile, wrapping his arms around Dream’s waist, “You’re handsome like that, duck. Do you want to keep it?” he asks, nuzzling his face in his neck, and Dream looks at him, puzzled.

“I.. do not know. Yet.”

“That’s alright, duck. Let’s do today with your beard, and you’ll see if you like it or not.” He turns Dream around by his waist, cupping his face, the stubble pricking in his palms. He runs his thumb over Dream’s cheek, looking at those pretty, pretty eyes. “Do you think I look good?” he asks, it sounds almost insecure. “Of course I do, duck. I love you. Let’s go eat breakfast, alright?” he asks, pressing a chaste kiss on Dream’s lips. “Alright.”

—————————————

At breakfast, Hob keeps glancing at Dream’s face, and acts like he doesn’t see it when he runs his fingers over his cheek every time he takes a bite. “You look pretty, duck, don’t worry.” He chuckles, and dream looks up at him, eyes wide. “I- It feels.. weird. And nice. I haven’t quite got the words for it yet.” Hob chuckles again, “Am I gonna get a poem about your beard later? Wouldn’t mind that.” He nudges Dream, who blushes a little.

“Oh, are you shy? So suddenly?” Hob smirks at him, and Dream shoots him a glare, not an unfriendly one, though. “Oh come on, love,” Hob stands up, setting their empty plates in the sink, he’ll clean those later.

“Are you teasing me?”

Hob jumps at how close Dream’s voice is, and shivers happily when his slender fingers dig into the plush of his hips. “Maybe.” It’s the truth, he doesn’t exactly know what his plan was, it’s hard to think straight when Dream of the Endless his pulling your hips against his.

His voice is gravelly, and tickles just as delightfully as his stubble. Hob throws his head back in a desperate attempt to look at him. “I do not think that is the right answer, my love. T’was a simple yes or no question, dear. It cannot possibly be that hard, can it? Would you,” his hand creeps up, running his fingers over Hob’s throat, who exhales shakingly, blushing like crazy, “try again, for me?” Hob whimpers, and apparently that’s the right answer, because Dream flips them, letting Hob push him against the wall.

“You are so hot like this, duck, it’s insane..” he smiles, while Dream pushes his hand on the back of Hob's neck, bringing him closer for a kiss. “Dream~” he moans, tangling his fingers in Dream's shirt, pushing himself impossibly close to him.

“I believe that you like how I look, then?” Hob can hear the tease in his voice, and when he opens his eyes, Dream is looking through his lashes, right at him. “I do, very much. Love you, duck.” He presses his nose against Dream’s, closing his eyes, enjoying the moment. “Mmh.” His hum vibrates ‘till it’s deep in Hob’s chest, entering his heart, it’s frantic beating trying to capture the sound. They’ve been together for however long, they don’t count the years, they count their moments, and there aren’t enough numbers for that.

Dream lifts Hob’s chin, making his lips fall open so easily, like it’s breathing that he’s doing. “Duck-” Hob’s moans and whimpers get swallowed by Dream, who feeds on it.

“I love you, fuck, baby..”

“I love you too.”

—————————————

“Do you wanna shave it, though?” Hob lays in bed, Dream’s head planted firmly against his chest, Hob’s fingers scratching at his hair. “I do. I like the feeling, but I like a clean-shaven face better. What do you think, my love?” Hob shrugs. “It’s not for me to choose, duck. I’ll help you shave, tomorrow, alright?” he asks, and Dream nods. “Don’t want you getting hurt.” Dream opens his mouth to protest, he can’t get hurt after all, but Hob shushes him. “Go to sleep, love.” “That is funny. Normally I am the one who says that after you have worked yourself exhausted.” Hob laughs wholeheartedly, “I remember that. Drooled all over a student’s paper. It was worth it though, we had a good fuck after.” He chuckles, and Dream buries his face in his chest. “Go to sleep, love.”

#dream sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #dreamling #hob gadling #the sandman #dream x hob #hob x dream #the sandman netflix #they are so adorable together I love them #AND I LOVE YOU BEE YOU'RE GREAT <3

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glitterandmoondustofficial · 4 months ago

Text

Side To Side

Chapter 255: Blood On Her Cheeks

Notes:

Characters: Law, Ruby Rating: Teen Warnings: Blood, Language, a smidge of dark humor Notes: Boy it feels good to write them together again. I mentioned on tumblr that I wasn't sure if I'd update any fics this weekend but here I am, 15 mins later LOL. This is a short chapter but it's still a good one. Enjoy these two being together again :)

Law took a ragged breath before limping forward. He had managed to get away from Cavendish-ya but Ruby was glued to his hip.

Understandably, of course. It was less than ten minutes ago that he thought she was dead, so it’s not like he wanted to be away from her either. However, the day wasn’t over. There was still chaos and war and Doflamingo’s stupid game. He had to find Straw Hat-ya. Law could no longer fight, but he could make sure Straw Hat-ya could.

“Law, this is stupid,” Ruby said at his side, her hands hovering by him in case he fell over. “I can’t let you keep going on like this. You’re barely holding together. Your arm is covered in blood and you being up like this is making it worse! If this was me you would have taken away my feet so that I couldn’t walk away.”

“Ruby,” he sighed. He held his injured arm and gritted his teeth in pain as it screamed at him. “I have to do this.”

“You don’t have to do shit, ” she snapped and Law saw a fury in her eyes that he had fallen for long ago. The anger and rage died in her eyes in moments and was replaced by desperation and fear. “I can’t lose you. I can’t…” Her voice shook and she blinked away tears. “You’ve done enough, mo chuisle. I’m begging you to just rest .”

“ Please let me do this,” he begged her. He reached out with his good arm and cupped her cheek. He leaned in and kissed her forehead slowly. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you,” he said again, a lump forming in his throat. He wanted to tell her over and over that he loved her. He wanted this to be over. He wanted to hold her. He wanted their injuries and pain to fade away. This never should have happened.

“I love you, too,” she whispered. Law leaned down and kissed her lips. The first taste of her in months, and the taste of blood was heavy on her tongue. He frowned deeply and pulled away. “Law,” she said desperately. “I just got you back, I can’t handle losing you.”

Law rubbed her cheek with his thumb. “I won’t die,” he said. “I just have to do this, Ruby. This is almost over, just believe in me for a little bit longer.”

Law watched Ruby fight a battle within herself. He could see her fiery anger and stubborn nature try to duke it out with the reasonable and calm thoughts. She stared at him with tears in her eyes and blood on her cheeks, so clearly hating what he was doing. And she was right. If their roles were reversed he would have never allowed her to do what he was trying to do.

He always teased her about being a sensitive cry baby, that she went with her emotions too often instead of rational thought, but right now he understood. He understood how fucked this situation was, how tired she was, how badly he wanted to just lay with her once more.

But as he watched her take a deep breath and straighten her back, he knew what she was about to say.

“Okay,” she sighed out. He pulled her in for another kiss, just a simple, chaste kiss. They laid their foreheads against each other for a moment before pulling away. “I trust that you will come back to me.”

“If I don’t, you can take my skull and put it on your mantelpiece in your seaside cottage. Label it as “a man who wouldn’t listen to his girlfriend.””

She let out a short laugh. “I can do that.”

Law pulled away from her and frowned at the blood on her face. He stared at her; clothes ripped, hair a mess, dirt, blood, and injuries covering her body. He took her in before closing his eyes slowly. She was here. She really was here. If he did anything right today it would be making sure she survived. He took a deep breath and steeled himself. He opened a room and opened his eyes. “I love you,” he told her one last time.

“I love you, too.”

He let himself relax for a moment, hearing the words that he longed for from her lips, before shambling away and leaving her behind.

#lawoc #law x oc #trafalgar law #opfanfic #oc x canon #one piece #law #ruby sela #sela ruby #well i lied and realized how close i was to being done SO HERE'S THE CHAPTER #side to side

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desperatelypraying4ananeurysm · 1 month ago

Text

SNS Smut (Draft)

Warning: this is literally the first time I've attempted to write smut, so it might not be entertaining or anatomically correct. Beware. (I am sufficiently trained when it comes to the consumption of erotica, however, so maybe that will make it less cringe. Probably not.)

That being said I appreciate constructive criticism as a means to improve, so suggestions are welcome.

The idea of oral always disgusted Sasuke.

The thought of wanting to see someone's genitals, much less touch, much less touch with your mouth, made him cringe. He didn't understand why someone would want to give or receive something so embarrassing for both people involved.

His opinion changed shortly after him and Naruto started dating.

It happened unexpectedly, completely unplanned.

They were both in the kitchen at around six in the morning, which Naruto wouldn't stop complaining about, with Sasuke making breakfast and Naruto standing behind him with his arms wrapped around his torso, head on his shoulder.

Naruto had leaned in to press his lips against Sasuke's in what should have been a chaste kiss, but it lingered for a second too long with a little bit too much pressure.

They both blinked at each other.

Naruto leaned in again for another kiss like before, but this time he bit down on Sasuke's bottom lip and dragged it between his own before pulling back.

Their eyes locked onto each other. A silent agreement passed between them, and Sasuke switched off the stove before turning around to fully face Naruto.

They didn't hesitate as they pressed up against each other and started making out, Naruto grabbing Sasuke by the waist and pinning him to the edge of the counter. Sasuke tangled the fingers of his remaining hand in the silky blonde curls at the nape of Naruto's neck.

After a few minutes, they pulled back and took in each other's kiss swollen lips and dilated pupils. The only sound in the apartment was the heavy breathing between them and the rustling of leaves from the open window.

Then, Naruto broke the silence by blurting in a nervous voice, "Can I suck you off?"

Sasuke didn't process what he said for a solid eight seconds.

"What?"

Naruto's face, which was already flushed from the kissing, turned crimson red.

"I-I mean it's okay if you don't want to! Totally fine!" he started rambling desperately. "I just kind of got caught up in the moment, you know? I forgot we haven't gotten to that point yet which is perfectly oka—"

"Sure."

Sasuke barely managed to keep his voice steady as he whispered out the only word he could think of while his brain felt like it had been placed under some type of genjutsu. He felt his mind swarming with nerves and jitters, while simultaneously feeling his heart flutter.

"Wait...Really! I mean— it's okay if you don't feel like it! I can wait, seriously—"

"I said it's fine idiot", he finally managed to get some coherence back. "I want you to."

It was a good thing he meant what he said, because even if he hadn't, the way Naruto beamed after hearing that would have made him cave in less than a second.

Naruto, almost vibrating in excitement, leaned in to place a firm kiss on the pulse point located at the side of his neck. He started trailing kisses all over Sasuke's chest and stomach, sinking to his knees as he reached the navel.

When he got to the waistband of the sweatpants he hooked his fingers into it and gently pulled it down, licking the patch of skin and the scattering of hair that was revealed.

Sasuke couldn't control the surprised gasp that escaped him when Naruto suddenly ripped down his pants and boxers in one go, exposing his erection to the cold air.

Naruto glanced up at him for a second, a rakish grin on his face, before he leaned down and took Sasuke into his mouth.

. . .

Sasuke couldn't tell if he was breathing. Maybe he wasn't, with the way his heart tightened every time Naruto slid his mouth over the length of his cock.

Everything felt like too much; the arousal coursing through his body, the sweat making his hair stick to his forehead, the sound of his own labored breaths filling his ears.

But when Naruto pulled off and placed a small peck against the head, ran his tongue along the ridge of the crown, he looked up into Sasuke's eyes for the first time.

The rays of sunlight filtering in through the window behind them reflected in Naruto's eyes and made them look like sapphire's bathed in melted gold.

Sasuke's breath hitched, and he knew in that moment it was over.

His entire body tensed and then instantly liquified as he squeezed his eyes shut, biting down on his bottom lip in a failed attempt to cut off the choked moan he produced from deep inside his throat.

After a few seconds he managed to recompose himself enough to glance down, where Naruto sat staring back up at him. There was a streak of cum on his right cheek, cutting across the three whisker markings. When he noticed Sasuke was watching him, Naruto reached up his left hand and wiped it off, maintaining steady eye contact as he licked it clean.

Sasuke tilted his head up towards the ceiling, resting it against the kitchen cabinet behind him as he tried to collect his bearings. He thought he understood now why people liked this so much.

It all depended on the person you did it with.

#literally finished writing this at 2:38 AM #this is why i'm mentally ill #posting it now though #sns #sasunarusasu #sasunaru #sasuke #naruto #naruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #uchiha sasuke #uzumaki naruto #smut #naruto smut #my writing #naruto fic

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clickonmedotexe · 1 year ago

Note

no longer attempting to project an air of even a bit of assurance, cas allows his hand to be taken- slightly-clawed fingers digging gently into rex's palm as his mind reels.

he'd had this whole plan initially, he could remember that; something or another about rex having to take his surname in the marriage.

well, that certainly wasn't his current plan. hell, saying 'absolutely not, no way, thank you' was looking awfully tempting, but it wasn't like cas could pick that option either.

largely because he'd made a promise.

it had been one of those kinds of panicked promises, made when the mind has exhausted every sense of actual reason, or helpful ideas and instead begins to bargin; please don't let me actually fucking die here, please, i promise i'll go to that wedding, i'll marry rex, i'll do whatever, just let me live, please--

cas had decidedly not lived.

it didn't make the promise defunct, however. after all, the fact he had been willing to make it meant that he must always have been willing to make it, and thus meant that he always would be willing to make it.

so, he must want this. with the desperation of how much he wanted to live. right?

> i don’t- i don’t… trust you.

that was not the topic at hand, and cas knew it. he knew full well what his answer was to said topic, too.

or, rather, his answer to a subtly different question, one he hadn't quite actually been asked:

> but i will marry you.

"I know." Rex squeezes his hand, reassuringly. He brushes his thumb over the back of Cas' hand, even after so much time fascinated at how different his skin feels to the touch - not quite human after all. "We'll get there eventually."

Rex takes the ring and slips it onto Cas' finger. It's stark against the black of his hand, slightly warm now after being held in Rex's grip.

There it is. He did it. Castiel, no longer the one who got away, no longer the elusive loose end that he had been all this time, he is Rex's now. Wearing his ring, bearing the title of his husband. There is a thrill there, one Rex has forgotten about after all this time of playing it safe, giving up his malicious ways for his family.

For a moment he stands there and looks at Cas, thinking of all the things he can do to him, all the things this marriage can mean. Cruel thoughts born out of one familiar instinct: destroy him before he destroys you.

His smile is warm and gentle as he cups his hands around Cas' cheeks and kisses his forehead, then his nose, then - stopping above his lips.

"I waited a long time for this, Cas." He murmurs, barely above a whisper. "When you died, I thought it would never happen. I thought we lost you for good. But you came back, somehow. You came back, you're here now, with me. I'm so glad to see you again. My Cas…my darling Cas…"

Rex kisses him. It's soft, chaste almost, telling of promises he intends to make and keep. It's over in an heartbeat. Rex, still holding Cas' hand, brings it up to his lips and kisses it as well.

Something will change between them with this arrangement, for better or for worse, they have yet to know.

#networksupported #＜/error＞#＜/spam mail＞#rexcas

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peakyblindersxx · 4 years ago

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May I request a john smut in which, despite being the cocky beast that he usually is, he manages to get all gentle and intense when, after years of mutual pining, he finally makes love to ada's best friend who's younger and totally inexperienced. Idk I just need this to be fucking intense, like John suffocating his desire for ages and now finally indulging in his worst temptation and showing her what lust is... please i'll burn in hellll

a/n: first of all let me say: this killed me. like, it’s literally all i can think about. god help me. but thank you so fucking much for requesting this bc i liked it sooo much that i decided to make a mini series out of it with the help of my babe @stxdyblr-2k who was sweet enough to offer to ghostwrite on the series 🥰 and to all my other angels who requested fics, don’t worry i will get them done! just wanna give you guys the best quality work i can. my 1st priority are some tommy requests i got, as well as some michael ones after :)

love, abi xxx

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (1 of ?)

warnings: nsfw! eventual smut, slow burn, john being sexy as all hell but also soft

John couldn’t tear his eyes off of you. From the moment you walked into the Garrison, arm loosely linked with Ada’s, clad in a black lace dress that hugged you just right, he couldn’t stop staring. Even Tommy and Arthur had noticed, cracking some joke about him being pussy whipped. The words floated right over his head, his mind on one thing only. The last time he had seen you, you were barely eighteen, cheeks pink as you waved goodbye out the train window to Ada as she sobbed. Ada had always had a flair for the dramatic, but the two of you had practically been attached at the hip your entire lives. So, he consoled her, reminding her that university wasn’t forever, that you would be back soon enough. And back, you were, red-stained lips sipping at a glass of something that Ada had practically shoved in your face. You weren’t a girl anymore, black heels crossed at the ankle as you sat across the room in a booth, laughing as Ada waved her arms, telling some sort of story.

“Just fuckin’ talk to ‘er, John-boy,” Arthur’s voice cut through John’s train of thought like a sharp knife, and he focused his eyes on his two brothers sitting at the booth across from him, clouds of smoke from Tommy’s incessant smoking heavy in the air around them.

“Fuck off,” John returned as he stood, earning a chuckle from Tommy.

“That’s right,” Arthur shouted as John made his way towards the bar, rolling his eyes at his older brothers. “Make sure you show her a real good time, eh?” Arthur’s voice was soon drowned out by the crowd around John, as they parted to let him walk through. He didn’t even see them, his eyes trained on your smile. Fuck, you were pretty.

***

“So, then I fucking kicked him in the balls.” Ada’s eyes sparkled triumphantly as she recalled the time she’d incited a riot, managing to cause great injury to a certain part of a policeman’s body. She did so casually, like it was no big deal. You couldn’t control your laughter as Ada grinned, pleased that she’d been able to make you laugh. “Fuckin’ missed you, Y/N,” she professed, shooting the rest of her gin and gesturing at the bartender to “leave the fuckin’ bottle, already.”

“Missed you too,” you smiled back at her, happy to be back in Birmingham in the company of an old friend. London was beautiful, but lonely. There was something inside you that missed the dirty streets, the crowded pubs bursting with familiar faces.

“Had to come over here myself to make sure it was you,” A deep voice interrupted your reverie and you looked up to see none other than Ada’s older brother John, looking even handsomer than the last time you’d seen him, in a grey-three piece suit, a cigar hanging from his lips. You’d had the hugest crush on him growing up, and the butterflies swimming around in your stomach seemed to confirm that you still found the tallest Shelby brother irresistible.

“Hi, John,” You offered him a shy smile and scooched over as he slid into the booth next to you, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. You couldn’t help but drink in the smell of his cologne, the various drinks that Ada had encouraged you to down making you press yourself closer to him.

“M’kay, if you’re going to fuck, at least wait until I’m gone.” Ada’s voice snapped you out of it and you looked away, a pink blush staining your cheeks.

“Says the one who managed to fuck three of my best mates before you left school,” John retorted, causing Ada to roll her eyes, shooting her whiskey and pouring the three of you another glass each.

“I feel like getting drunk, and I’m not doing it alone,” Ada announced, causing both you and John to crack a smile at her forcefulness.

“Good thing we took a cab here,” you returned, before shooting your whiskey. If you were going to have to stare at John all night, you thought, you might as well be drunk doing it. Wasn’t like he was going to be staring back.

***

Ada was shitfaced, dancing in the middle of the pub. Luckily, Isaiah had stepped in as her partner, making sure her stumbling didn’t cause her to trip and fall. Unluckily for you, this left a tipsy you and John alone tucked into a booth in the corner of the room, out of view. The conversation was friendly, and you were trying your best to keep your mind off the way you could see John’s forearms practically bulging out of his suit. It wasn’t fair, you thought to yourself, for him to walk around looking like that. Especially when you knew that he was probably fucking the latest movie star, or something. It was almost impossible for you to keep your head straight, yet you managed to keep it civil. However, you couldn’t help your gaze from drifting to his lips. God, they were so pink and looked so soft, it was unfair. You couldn’t stop yourself from imagining how they’d feel on your mouth, let alone other parts of your body. Jesus, you were fucked.

A third of a bottle of whiskey later, you couldn’t help but let yourself slide closer to him, heart beating fast in your chest as you sat tucked into his side, his arm around you as you laughed at a joke he’d made, something about the stick up Tommy’s ass. Your eyes shone as they met his blue ones, his arm sliding down until his fingers were brushing against your waist, radiating heat into your skin.

“Y’know, I’d tell you how fuckin’ pretty you look tonight, but I think you already know that,” John rumbled into your ear, lips just barely brushing against your neck. Your breath hitched, and he noticed, a small grin spreading across his lips.

“You’re something else, you know that?” You shot back, a small smile threatening to take over your lips.

“M’not just sayin’ that. Couldn’t take my eyes off ‘ya, since you walked in.” John wasn’t kidding. For a second you didn’t know how to reply, staring up at him with a slight look of disbelief. The whiskey, however, had other plans, and had decided to respond for you.

“Can't keep your hands off me now." You smirked, waiting for him to escalate the moment, anticipation and liquor silencing the blaring alarm in your mind. God, you shouldn't want him as badly as you do.

"Can you blame me?" He muttered, dragging his fingers across the lace of your dress, tracing the pattern's loops absentmindedly, watching your jaw tense and lips part to take a gasping breath, your jacket having long vanished into the chaos of the pub. Your arms wound themselves around his neck, fingers twisting into his short hair. "Fucking come 'ere lass."

His strong arms lifted you onto his knee, gripping a thigh to help you balance, the friction of his rough hand against the stiff fabric pushing your dress up slightly. The need for more and the desire to know him completely intoxicated you far more than anything from a bottle; you'd never felt as though you were on fire from your drunk hookups. His fingers found the zip of your dress, tugging it down desperately, gripping the flesh of your exposed shoulder blades. A small groan erupted from your lips as you felt him chuckle below you, pressing a thumb to your lips to quieten you.

"John," you whined, pouting playfully against his thumb.

"I'll sort you out, I swear," He muttered, slipping his thumb between your lips. Instinctively, you sucked, locking eyes with him, his hand straying from your back to roughly grab your jaw, holding your gaze. "But if you're going to scream your 'ead off, we'll get caught."

"You wish you could make me scream, John-lad."

"Come off it, I could ruin you, Y/N." He stated, lifting your jaw, as though memorising the construction of your face, tone brimming with a cocky confidence only John could make attractive. "You want that?"

"More than anything." The words tumbled out of your mouth thoughtlessly, watching how his jaw tightened in response as you attempted to read his expression. He studied you for what must've only been a few seconds, but the moment passed so slowly, you could barely remember what it felt like to not be examined by his dominating blue eyed stare.

His grip guided your face to his, fingers tilting your chin so John's lips could brush against yours, before pulling you into a heated almost aggressive kiss, the straps of your dress barely grazing your shoulders, the hem of your dress bunching around your waist as he reached down your back to grab your bum in a firm squeeze. Your mouth gaped open in a gasp of pleasure, John taking the moment to run his tongue against your lips, gaining access and deepening the kiss. You were so caught up in the thrill of John's seduction that you hadn't noticed his hand suddenly pull away after moving your skimpy underwear to one side. You had instinctively ground your hips against him, he'd broken the kiss to let out a string of curses, complimenting you through his quickening breaths (“Fuckin’ wet for me already, aye?”), gripping your thigh. But as soon as he had pulled the thin silk from your thighs, the atmosphere shifted, his lip curling in frustration as his hands left your skin as though your flesh was suddenly scalding.

"John?" You prompted, resting a hand on his shoulder, noticing the dark shadows under his eyes for the first time.

"It's getting late."

"What?" Your voice sounded high and whiny, you mentally scolded yourself for sounding so needy. It was embarrassing to be rejected by the man you've admired for many years, but even worse to be openly vulnerable and so pathetic in front of your best friend's brother.

Ada.

Oh fuck.

Realisation hit you, it was either that or the unholy quantity of alcohol you'd downed which turned your stomach. You had gone too far this time. It was one thing to flirt with John and desire him from a distance, it was an absolute betrayal to have sex with him, knowing Ada's insecurity about being used to get close to her gangster brothers- sex, power and politics. You had sworn during those tearful walks around the canal that you'd never hurt her. You couldn't do that to her.

Your sudden panic must've been obvious, you tried to stand up from John's lap, stumbling slightly, only regaining balance due to a sudden arm across your back, anchoring you upright.

"No one has to know. It's our secret yeah?" He muttered into your ear, his words comforting.

You nodded silently, the reality of the situation settling in. Your hands are shaking by your sides, John catches them, locking his fingers with yours.

"It's fine, now. Nothing happened yeah?" He stood up in front of you, his muscular physique looming before you, the creases across his torso reminding you that just a few minutes ago his body was under yours, he was breathless, needing your skin against his, desperate and vulnerable. "I'll zip you up. Turn around."

His hands dropped from yours to fumble clumsily with your zip, struggling in the gloom and fog of intoxication, he eventually succeeded, the lace clinging to the curve of your hips, waist, back and chest again. You wished it was him instead that was skimming your figure but you pushed the thought away with a simple, "Thanks."

"I'll walk you home yeah?" He offered, as he straightens your skirt and his tie, allowing you to fix his crumpled shirt collar and the row of shining buttons below his throat which you'd ripped open as he whispered dirty nonsense in your ear, smirking at how you arched your back and swore back at him through your moans.

"Isaiah already said he would, it'd be better for us both that way. You know how people around here talk." You replied, glancing at the mirror on the wall of the booth to quickly smooth your tousled hair. Despite only recently returning to Small Heath, you'd already encountered the rife gossiping and quickly realised your neighbour was incapable of minding his own business. "Nobody has to know, right?"

John nodded, disappointed but appreciating your rationale and quick thinking despite your state, "Right."

"Good night, John," You said politely, ignoring the tension in his tone and the sudden soft sadness of his eyes, turning your back and walking to the door. Back to the sticky dance floor, back to Ada, Isaiah, Finn, Tokyo, back to spilling drinks, ashing cigarettes, back to noise, safety and far from the man who made your morals vanish with the same lines he uses on probably every single one of his conquests. Fuck it. You were going to enjoy it, you sped up your pace in your heels, trying to ignore your shaking legs. You tried to ignore the guilty twang in your gut when Ada screamed your name across the pub and stumbled over, dragging some lad on her arm, pressing drunken kisses to your forehead and cheeks.

You couldn't help but look back to see his shadow sloping away into the darkness of the booths closer to the dance floor, being bullied mercilessly by his brothers you assumed. You watched him fake a smirk, take the knuckles to his brow from Arthur, snap an insult back to Thomas and settle into his rightful seat. You only shifted your gaze to Ada for a moment but when you looked back up, he was staring at you, jaw tense, icy stare burning into yours, arms folded on the table, the gold chains of his sleeve garters barely glinting in the dim light. He looked away but you could see his cheeks were flushed with blood even in the glow of the oil lamps.

Pretending nothing happened was going to be impossible.

***

to be continued!

#john shelby smut #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders imagine #john shelby masterlist #peaky blinders masterlist #john shelby fluff #john shelby x y/n

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secondhand-trash · 4 years ago

Text

Waiting on the team captains wearing nothing but their jacket

A/N: detailed elaboration coming your way a day after I make the initial post, as promised uwu

Word count: 1901

Warning: nsfw

Characters: Sawamura Daichi, Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou, Oikawa Tooru, Ushijima Wakatoshi

(wing spiker ver.)

Sawamura Daichi

You couldn’t help it, his jacket smells like him and just feels to safe to be all wrapped up in the jacket that is so much bigger in size than you. It had almost become a habit of sorts for you to pull out his clothes when you need something comfortable to lounge around in, which he found very adorable.

However, he wasn’t all too sure if adorable would be the word he was looking for when he saw you sitting on the bed, your hair wet and dripping water down to your neck, looking very much so bare except for his old volleyball club jacket.

“Hm? Oh, you’re home!” you looked so innocent as you smiled, uncrossing your legs while he walked closer to you. You had his jacket zipped up, and the hem was right at your thigh. The collar was too wide for you, hanging off your collar bone and threatening to slide down at any second.

“Yeah,” he muttered as he stalked towards you, the mattress dipping as he crawled onto the bed to give you a chaste kiss on your lips. His hand found its way to the supple skin of your legs, he sighed into your lips when he felt how warm you were under his palm from the shower you just took. You giggled before wrapping your arms around his neck, letting him slid up the jacket until his fingers were rubbing at the side of your hips.

You didn’t stop him when his hands moved down to the inner part of your thighs, your hand tightening your grip on his shirt as his finger ghosted over your slit.

“Someone’s wet down here too...” he whispered as he twirled the ends of your wet locks, his finger feeling your growing arousal.

You let out a breathy sigh when he pushed you down onto your back, nudging your legs apart as he caged your between his arms.

You could feel his bulge as he leaned down, your back arching up for more friction reflectively as his hand danced against the zipper of his jacket.

“Let’s take this off before we get it dirty...”

Kuroo Tetsurou

“Hm... look what we have here...”

You rolled to your side at the familiar voice, looking up to see your boyfriend leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, eyes glimmering in interest.

“Took you long enough,” you mused, propping yourself on the mattress with your elbow, “I was starting to think that you died on the road with how long it took.”

“Oh please,” you smirked as he pulled you into his lap, groaning when he moved you so sit right at his bulge. His smile was wolfish when he felt how naked you were underneath the red jacket that was far too big for you, "I feel like that exactly what you want to see when you sent me those pics.”

Crooking your brow up, you tilted your head up as he leaned down to nibble at the soft skin of your neck. It was an impulsive decision. He was always busy so you didn’t have much time to add the much needed spiciness in your life so why not give him a kick by sending him a few carefully posed pictures of your bare chest just covered by the baggy material of his old jacket? He could already feel the blood rushing south when he got the first message from you, but he choked on his own spit when his phone vibrated again. This time, you were on your stomach, your back arched as you stared into the camera. You had the decency to cover your lower body with the jacket, but the delicious dip of your waist and the barely visible cleavage already had him up and ready to rush home.

Peeling the jacket off of you, he left the fabric hanging off your back as admired how nice the red complimented your bare skin. You gripped his arms as he trailed open mouthed kisses down your collar all the way until he took your sensitive peak in his mouth, sucking and licking while pinching the other with his finger.

“I hope you’re ready to face the consequences of being a tease...”

Bokuto Koutarou

Congratulations, you had obtained a dazed owl at your hands.

You could hear him the moment the front door opened. His loud voice calling for you as he paced into your shared bedroom. You had such a hard time containing your laugh when you saw the look on his face the moment those round eyes landed on your form. His eyes racked all over you from top to bottom, his mouth slowly hanging open as he felt the twitch in his pants. You were sitting by the edge of the bed with your legs crossed, hiking up the jacket dangerously high against your hips. You did not zip it up, only holding it together with your own two arms, pushing your tits together in the process.

“Kou?” biting the inside of your cheeks, you smiled as you watched him tense up at the sight of you shifting your legs, lifting the hem of the jacket up until it was right at your hip bone before letting it fall again, “you can come closer you know?”

He was uncharacteristically tender with his hands, slowly slipping under the jacket and cupping your tits. You could see his pupils widening when you slowly moved your legs apart, your hands trailing up your sides as you showed him your brae cunt.

“I’ve been waiting for you like this all day long,” you knew you had him when his hands started to get rougher, his chest rising and falling as his breaths got heavier. Bringing your hand to palm over his hard on under his pants, you lowered your voice, “can’t get this off my mind no matter how hard I try...”

He was all over you in an instance, purged over you as he roamed all over your curves. Nothing got him going like the thought of him being the one thing that ran over your mind even when he was not around, the idea that you wanted him all the time stripped him of all self-control.

“Baby you’re so pretty,” his grunted as he pushed your knees back, feeling the ache in his bones when he saw just how ready you were for him. He always thought you were beautiful, but my god did the way you look in his clothes drove him insane.

You knew he would be rambling praises about you all night long as he shows you just how much he appreciated your little treat for him.

Oikawa Tooru

You missed him so fucking much.

From seeing each other almost daily to being at two separate ends of the globe, it definitely took some hard adjustments. There were countless nights when you felt the weight at your chest just from thinking about the future, whether you two would have one together. But it was like he could feel the nerve running through your brain even from so far away and when you needed him the most, you were always reminded that you two would go strong as long as you worked for it with the familiar ring of your phone.

And Oikawa Tooru was definitely worth working hard for.

Clutching his jacket close to your body, you took one hard sniff, trying to inhale whatever that was left of him on the fabric. The cotton was soft against your skin, warm and gentle. You tried to imagine that your boyfriend’s jacket was enough of a replicate for his presence, sighing when you realised how sad it was that you were desperately searching for just a bit of comfort to fill in your yearning for him.

You missed the way he holds you tight, how he would take his time to caress every parts of your body before he filled you with all his love. You missed his body wrapped up around yours but right now the jacket will have to do. Your hands traveled down the side of your waist until your fingers were crawling over your thighs, mimicking the way his skillful fingers would elicit shivers all over your body before even touching you properly.

You were so deep in your own imagination that you didn’t even feel the presence of another person until you felt a familiar touch on your calves.

“Tooru!” you squealed, not even caring about how exposed you were as you leaped into his arms, burying your face into his chest. For a moment, you could not even began to believe your eyes but he was here, so real and so warm against your touch.

“Surprised?” He chuckled as you nodded, rubbing your face against the fabric of his shirt.

“I’ve missed you...”

“I missed you too..” he took a deep breath when he pulled away to see the state you were in, his eyes widening in awe at how luscious you looked all wrapped up in his jacket.

It had been too long and he couldn’t wait to remind you again and again of how much he missed you.

Laying you down, you could feel your face burning up when he brushed away the heavy fabric, drinking in the way your naked body was all on display for him.

“I’ve missed this-” he whispered against your neck.

“This-” A kiss at the valley of your breast.

“This-” soft kisses peppered down your stomach.

But nothing could prepare you for when he hooked your leg over his shoulder, darting his tongue out to lick a long strip up your bare cunt.

“And especially this...”

Ushijima Wakatoshi

The way his eyes darkened the moment they landed on you sent a shameful thrill straight to your core.

He looked like a vulture eyeing his prey as he stalked towards you, towering you with his much larger frame as he stood in front of you. His grip on your jaw was firm as he tilted your head up, making you look right into his eyes. You shuddered when he spoke.

“Princess, what are you doing?”

“Waiting for you,” you replied, “you’ve been working yourself so much lately. I figured I should do something to help you let out some steam.”

His let go of your jaw as he hummed, his large palm sliding down to trail his finger along the collar of his purple jacket on you. The jacket was threatening to fall off of you, barely covering your much smaller frame.

You looked so dainty, like he could wreck you if he did so little as laid his hands on you.

You obediently let him perched between your parted legs as he crawled over you, his hand digging into your thighs as he leaned down.

“Are you going to behave for me?"

The rumbling from his chest hit you in full force as he chuckled, taking in the way you eagerly nodded. His lips were soft against yours, kissing you again and again as his hand trailed down your legs but pulled away the moment you started chasing more. The look in his eyes warning you that this was about him, and he would not let you have your way around so easily if you did not follow orders.

But of course you would be a good girl for him, knowing how delicious the rewards would be.

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu smut #sawamura x reader #sawamura smut #kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #bokuto x reader #bokuto smut #oikawa x reader #oikawa smut #ushijima x reader #ushijima smut

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fatuilady · 4 years ago

Text

— 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 - 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠. (headcanons)

✦ word count : 2.6𝐤

✦ feat : 𝐆𝐍 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 , [𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭] 𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐨, 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭, 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜, 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐚, 𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐨𝐫, 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢

✦ context : 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐮𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ~

✦ cw : 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲, 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 (kaeya lol)

✦ note : apologies this one took so long, work had been swamping me ;-; ! quite long, pretty wordy, almost oneshots, but i hope you all enjoy anyway :)

𝖆𝖑𝖇𝖊𝖉𝖔 :

✦ This particular chalk prince is all too enthralled with delicacy. His very mantra is all about the fragility of life and creation, surely, you're no exception. He has a unique fascination with life and death, yet seemed to focus little on the precious moments between the cradle and the grave.

✦ Albedo is always gentle, shy and chaste when he embraces you.

✦ At first, he was unfamiliar with the sentiment as social contact had never been his forte, since he was in fact a wall of stone (or chalk?). He'd declined your open offer from his own inexperience, he failed to consider that it may portray him as cold, distant or unwelcoming.

✦ Soon enough, Albedo would begin to ponder how such a simple interaction could bring strong emotion to humankind, yet the more he dwelled upon it, the more he found his arms feeling empty. It was as if his hypothesis was proving itself wrong.

✦ Eventually, he'd come to terms with his growing curiosity, always one to initiate an experiment, he'd offer himself to return the affections - he was very glad he did.

✦ Albedo's coy nature would let him drape one arm around your shoulder, the other taking your hand. He'd wrap his soft hands around your own, placing his head beside your own. His hair would smell soft, newborn and clean, the scent of fresh cotton, baby powder and angel feathers beside your nose as he buried into you.

✦ The chalk prince unfortunately would struggle to find the time for such intimacy on the regular, but when he did find the chance to embrace you, he'd make them last as long as he could.

✦ Perhaps this still lingered from his limited understanding of social cues, but he'd hold onto you for many minutes, more than you could count on one hand. Taking you in his arms, he would touch you as if you were a blooming Cecelia, tenderly and lovingly. You'd return his care, cuddling him and wrapping both arms around his back.

✦ During his hugs, he'd also sometimes find himself tracing over your body with inquisitive hands. Albedo had never had the chance to properly appreciate your anatomy in such a manner before, but he quickly fell in love with your form.

✦ Albedo soon began to realise the adoration behind hugs; his adoration for you also began to grow. Slowly but surely, he actively began to seek out your displays of affection, whether to feel your warmth, play with the fabric of your clothes or caress your shape, he wasn't sure.

'Thank you... deeply, for sharing this moment, you... resemble a statue, I couldn't think of anyone better suited for such an embrace.'

✦ What he was sure of was that he had appreciated the beauty of life in the same way ever before than he did when he was swaddled in your arms.

𝖇𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖙𝖙 :

✦ The young adventurer is notoriously unlucky, his clumsiness an infamous curse that seems to follow him wherever he goes. It's precisely the reason he's very hesitant to come too close to you, for fear his awful fortune will wipe off on you. No matter how careful he seems to be, there's always something the archons never seem to be on his side.

✦ Instead of his bad luck rubbing off on you, maybe your good luck would rub off on him, at least, that's what you believed.

✦ Bennett was more than surprised when you asked for a hug, your request catching him quite off guard. He'd think on it for a moment, face painted in light pink as he reached for an invisible itch on the back of his neck.

✦ As the leader of Benny's Adventure Team, he'd find it fitting to stand alongside you, carefully tossing one of his arms over your shoulder. He'd snatch you closer with a squeeze, the marigold colour bandana he wore knotted around his upper arm tickling your chin.

✦ The hug itself would be friendly, full of total and mutual trust as you too curled an arm around his front and back. You'd both sway, beaming as laughing as he flashed you an appreciative thumbs up, the sunkiss on his skin making the clumsy boy hold the same warmth as a summer beach.

'I think you're my favourite adventure buddy, I must have been lucky for once to meet someone like you, traveller!'

✦ Bennett would hope to keep moving through Mondstadt with his arm around you. The idea was short lived, to say the least.

✦ As ever, his curse would catch him at the worst moment, a measly loose stone in the plaza floor catching his foot. Bennett tumbled, and so, you tumbled as well.

✦ The active boy would try his best to manoeuvre himself to catch you before you scraped the ground. You'd end up likely crossed over his lap, a compromising position, but it was all in good fun. You loved Bennett's antics, he brought excitement to what could have easily been a mundane life.

✦ Caught up in giggles, Bennett kept his arms crossed over you as he drew his head around to press both yours and his cheeks together. The moment was another perfect instance for a scrapbook, even some of Mondstadt's more grouchier personas sparing a chuckle for you both.

𝖉𝖎𝖑𝖚𝖈 :

✦ For a pyro wielder, Diluc Ragnvindr doesn't present himself warmly. Seemingly tired, uninterested and slightly callous, he concerns himself with practical matters when he is alone: economist by day, vigilante by night. Stuck in his ways, he'd see no purpose in day to day public displays of affection.

✦ This doesn't mean he dislikes contact in private, however.

✦ The common misconception would leave one to believe Diluc was a stone gargoyle, incapable and unwilling to act in any other way. Alone with you, he couldn't be further from it, in fact, in most cases, he's the one to initiate the contact, sometimes without even asking.

✦ When, and only when, perfect conditions are met does Diluc lets go of his tough exterior and ultimately boils down to a lovesick puppy. However, he much prefers to be alone alongside you, of course, in these endeavours.

✦ With nobody else in sight, he would be quick to start loving, his stature still ever strong as he discarded his gloves. The dark side of dawn much preferred to hold you with his bare hands to further lift your caring skinship.

✦ Diluc would wear a sincere smile, one of patience and relief as he drew closer to you. He'd wait for you to signal him with your own charming grin, and only then would he leap into the biggest, most tender bear hug one could conjure.

✦ Strong arms suffocated you as one hand rested on the back of your head, savouring the softness of your hair. The other would cross behind you and after a few compassionate minutes, he'd concentrate his strength to lift you up, up and further into his arms.

✦ If you would like to be put down, he'd place you gentle back onto the floor, releasing you slowly. The flaming hero would notice the mess he had made of your hair, tussling it back to it's usual shape with his fingers.

✦ Otherwise, you could wrap your legs around him, and whilst supporting you, he'd spin around and hold you tightly. Head against his chest, you'd twirl stray strands of his strawberry coloured ponytail in your fingers, relishing in the lingering scent of warm booze, sweet flowers and flecks of ash.

'I apologise for the wait, I'm glad you're still here, you know how dearly I treasure your touch.'

✦ He almost seemed a natural, more so than his love driven brother when it came to private intimacy, but truthfully, he still held small amounts of insecurity. His worry would be holding you too roughly, but the more you insisted you loved his hugs, the more the people of Mondstadt would notice him acting much more chipper during his day shifts at Angel's Share.

𝖐𝖆𝖊𝖞𝖆 :

✦ Smooth talking, smooth moving, smooth loving, there's nothing about the Favonius Cavalry Captain that doesn't radiate utmost self confidence. He acts on his own accord, conducting how he pleases. Still one for manners, he'd clear the water with you far in advance before laying on the next level of his flirtatious affairs.

✦ Kaeya Alberich is incredibly touchy, his behaviour consistent in public, private, wherever he happens to be in the same space as you. His hugs are amatory; romanced laced in the most teasing way.

✦ You could be communing with citizens of Mondstadt, researching in the library, helping sweep away stray leaves at the cathedral on behalf of a desperate attendee. Kaeya makes a habit of catching a glimpse of you as he patrols the city, making a discreet beeline to catch up to you.

✦ Regardless of if you were courting or merely on mutual acquaintanced basis, he'd know exactly which places to stir up when he hugged you from behind.

✦ The frostbearing swordsman would care little about an outside audience, and would enjoy it in true deriding manner if you grew flustered at simply the thought of being intimate in public.

✦ Kaeya would snake his arms around your waist, hands smoothing over the angles or curves. Afterwards, he'd lean into the crook of your neck to place a gentle kiss on your skin.

'I simply couldn't wait another moment, you're heavenly~'

✦ His hair, much like is brothers, would flow over your shoulder like a rich waterfall, scented with rose oil, glistening jasmine and chai.

✦ In private, Kaeya would be even more adoring, favouring a gentler approach opposed to his more teasing public affections. He'd love for you to sit between his legs on the couch, back rested against his chest.

✦ A master of fine swordmanship, he'd be oh so gentle, his touches feather soft, sometimes even so gentle you wouldn't even notice they were there. Regardless, he loves more than life to make a fuss over you when you hug, he loves to play with your hair, he loves to spin circles into your skin with careful fingertips, he loves to whisper every word you'd like to hear all with the intent of making the moment stretch for as long as it could.

✦ Kaeya knew he was free to share his love with you at any moment, but that didn't keep him from making each hug count, after all, he simply just adores the way you fit perfectly into him.

𝖗𝖆𝖟𝖔𝖗 :

✦ Razor is a curious soul, one of primal roots. Human intimacy is worlds apart from the care he shared with his Lupical, so he craves the best of both worlds. The wolf boy wants to learn, who better to verse him in human affection than you?

✦ When you'd ask him if he would like a hug, he was unsure what it was. He'd tilt his head to the side, clueless, but eager nonetheless. If he had a tail like his canine brother and sisters, it would surely be swaying side to side by now

✦ You'd find it adorable how he'd mimic your movements like a puppet, you raised an arm and he'd do the same.

✦ As you brought yourself closer to him, he'd hesitate slightly, his feral nature urging him to step away, but his human mind knew he trusted you, so he stayed in place and allowed you to cuddle him.

✦ When wolves displayed the same behaviour, it was one of threatening origin, normally the kickstarter of an incoming fight, but with you, he felt no threat at all. Admittedly, he seemed a little stiff when you engulfed him, not quite sure what to do with his limbs, he marvelled in place for a moment.

✦ Razor felt a flurrying heat collect in his face as he gasped, gradually relaxing his shoulders as he melted away into your embrace. He also might have felt his eyes sting a little with joyful tears, it was something new, surely, but the half wolf didn't mind it.

✦ He tried to sneak a glance at how you were holding him so he could do his best to replicate it. Hesitantly, he placed his arms around you in return, though they almost seemed to lag as he moved them. Once they were securely around you, Razor felt himself click into place and squeeze tightly.

✦ Gentle wind breezed over you, catching his distinct scent of earth, fresh rain and crushed berries. He seemed a little cold from the touch, but this was expected from somebody who spent his life outside in the roaming scape of Wolvendom.

✦ His hair, though mildly knotted in some places, truly did feel plush like a wolf's pelt, ideal to pat and stroke.

'You are...warm... Razor likes it, I will... stay, for a while'

✦ Razor had discovered two things: He now loved hugs possibly more than hunting, but what he loved most was your hugs specifically.

✦ He'd be more subtle, yet increasingly obvious in the future. Whenever the overgrown puppy of a boy would crave some attention, he'd shuffle close to you, raising his arms in the same way you did when you introduced the concept to you. Moreover, he'd be seeking you out a lot-

𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎 :

✦ A carefree and free flowing spirit by design, Venti is true to his element when it comes to hugs. He's a very affectionate boy, but in a more innocent sense. Always full of mischievous laughter, he appreciates the silliness and fun behind the little things.

✦ The windborne bard would be very open about hugs and public affections, often asking both if he could receive and give. When accepting his proposal, you'd get to see him close his eyes in delight, cheering to himself in a childish manner.

✦ He'd be all about the performance, being a bard and all gives him this habit. Laughter, singing, general sounds of delight, whatever he can conjure, Venti would beam with happiness from even the smallest contact with you.

✦ Venti would run and spring into you through the long grass strewn across Starsnatch Cliff, gusts of anemo following his excited behaviour.

✦ What's most humouring is the rather short boy propping himself up on the tips of his toes in order to better the hug, draping both of his arms around your neck.

✦ The bard would love to look into your eyes, placing a cheeky kiss on the tip of your nose. Another common practice would be cupping your face with one hand, holding it in his palm with nothing but adoration.

✦ Another curious trick of his involves his elemental skill. Charging it, he'd hold onto you tightly, chirping as you'd both lock into each other.

'Ehe, hold on tightly, I don't want you to fall!'

✦ In one single burst, you'd be launched upwards by a powerful gust, high enough to see all of Mondstadt in the unexpectedly strong arms of your favourite Archon.

✦ Brushing stray hairs that came loose from your hairstyle during the departure, he was something freeing, a breath of fresh air as you drifted contentedly to the delicate grass below.

✦ Everything about the old young bard seemed peaceful as you'd stay warm, knitted together laying down amongst the dandelions.

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years ago

Text

Of Constellations & Creeds

Chapter 21: Fire of Devotion

Summary/Author’s Note: Din presents you with a gift that he has had for while. You start exploring what it means to work as a team and meet a fiery mechanic that takes a shine to you.

There is a note at the end for what something looks like if you guys are having a hard time picturing it. I tried to do my best. Thank you for reading!

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!reader (Alpha/Omega/soulmates AU) Word Count: 5k Warnings/Promises: Mature/18+ - language, sexual themes, weapons/shooting

[Previous Chapter] [Series Masterlist] [My Complete Masterlist]

This is what dreaming felt like.

You were the perfect temperature of warm bodies and crisp blankets. Sprawled among the sheets, you lucidly stretched your body as your mind slowly woke up the rest of your limbs. You started by wiggling your toes while you listened to the birds chitter in the trees outside the barn, your ankles, your back, and lastly your arms. You quietly popped your fingers as you brought them up to rub gently at the back of your sore neck with a groan.

"Shit."

You winced as you stretched your arms and suddenly remembered why your shoulder was so tender. Rotating the cuff much slower, you worked the stiffness out of the muscle until you could move it more freely. That was at least a little better.

Before falling into bed last night, Din had ravished you against the wall, then again on the ground, neither one of you able to stop long enough to tear yourselves apart. The idea of moving into the comfort of your bed never came up, due to not wanting to wake the kid and once again...that required you to stop touching each other. Whatever discomfort you felt had absolutely been worth it.

The morning sun was warm on your face and you opened your eyes to find the Mandalorian facing you...still helmetless. You had worried the moment you fell asleep everything would have ceased to have happened. You really wouldn't have seen his face. You really wouldn't have received his mark. But he had sleepily assured you that closing your eyes erased nothing and he promised to be here when you woke up. Everything you had done last night was no dream. It had been very, very real.

“Din?” you whispered almost inaudible, as if to test him.

His eyes were closed and his mouth open ever so slightly as he continued to sleep with his arm bent behind his head against his pillow. He looked younger in the sunlight. The gentle rays tinting his already light brown skin to a warm sienna, it did the same to his hair, finding the small strands of molten gold throughout the tousled dark curls. He was so handsome and you had yet to tell him, but something told you he wouldn't believe you even if you did.

Did Mandalorians have a concept of beauty? When you spent your entire adolescence with a helmet on, you couldn’t imagine it mattered much what the person underneath looked like. It leveled the playing field so to speak. While society squabbled over such trivial attributes, you imagined Mandalore was more concerned with your ability to win a fight, to negotiate, to contribute to your clan.

It used to be easy to look at him with disdain. Then that disdain turned to something little more than convenient indifference. It was easy to blame him for the destruction of your home world, for the loss of your old life. Anger was always easier. And yet as you looked at him now, and fought the desperate urge to trace the bridge of his nose with the tip of your finger, you knew you felt something else towards him. Something that you hadn't felt in a very long time. Something that felt a lot like affection...a lot like love.

Yes, to you Din was beautiful. But then again when you loved someone, weren’t they always? There was that word again. It made you smile quietly to yourself as you mulled it over in your mind.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his, a chaste kiss that caused a soft groan to come from somewhere deep in his chest as his arm slid around your middle.

"Good morning," you whispered against his mouth and he grunted, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Ten more minutes."

You smiled, kissing him again as he pulled you closer. You reached down and grabbed the blanket before pulling it up over the both of you more securely. For a man that never took a break, he loved sleep more than anyone you had ever met.

"Alright, ten more minutes," you said quietly as you moved to kiss his cheek before tucking your head under his chin against his chest and closing your eyes.

Saying goodbye to Omera and Sorgan was more painful than you imagined it would be. She was the first person who understood your struggle. If it weren't for her who knew how long it would take you and the Mandalorian to find one another. But no matter how you felt, you couldn't stay here and she couldn't come with you. It seemed everywhere you went there was something new to lose, a new heartache to experience, and as you hugged her tightly and held back your tears she was added to the long list of loss in your life.

"You'll always have a place here," she said quietly as you squeezed her tighter. It's as if she knew you were trying not to fall apart. She felt the soft cloth that you had used to bandage your shoulder and she leaned back to see your face and give you a knowing grin. “But you are now right where you’re supposed to be.”

"Thank you," you said, wiping your eyes as she fixed the shawl around your shoulders and gave your arms a pat.

“Keep up with your meditations. They’ll help.”

“I know.”

"Take care of them," she nodded to the man behind you who was holding the child and waiting patiently for you by the cart. "But don't forget to take care of yourself."

"I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

The trip back through the woods to the Razor Crest was a somber one and you watched as the child stood at the back of the cart and waved its tiny three-fingered hand at the group of children who were waving in return. You leaned forward and rubbed the space between its massive ears gently. However you were feeling was probably nothing compared to the little guy. He didn't know what was going on, or that there were people hunting him, or why you couldn't stay in such a beautiful place where he had made so many friends. It was tough being a kid in such a big world. Maker, it was tough being an adult in such a big world.

You looked back as you felt Din put his hand on the small of your back and lean his helmet against your temple for the briefest of moments. You lowered your walls ever so slightly and accepted the comfort that he sent your way. Maybe Omera had been right, maybe he had wanted to stay too.

Being back on the Razor Crest came pretty naturally to the three of you and to say you were surprised was an understatement. Fresh supplies from Sorgan filled the storage bunker and with more variety to eat than prepackaged rations, your spirits were much higher than they had been previously.

“Come on, kid,” you said, gently as you picked up the child and straightened his burlap cloak. “Nap time.”

“Ba-to!” he squeaked, raising his arms up and giving you a two-toothed smile that warmed your heart.

“Just for a little bit,” you assured him. “Then you can come up front and help pilot. Sound good?”

“Ah-yo!”

“No, no, I promise,” you answered him like you were having a full conversation. “I’ll make him let you. You’re plenty old enough,” you scoffed with a laugh. “You just need a few phone books to sit on.”

He gave another happy squeak as you sat him in the hammock hanging above Din’s bed and tucked him in. You dug out the small stuffed frog that Winta had made for him back on Sorgan, with it’s bright blue felt skin and lopsided eyes, and helped him nestle it under his chin. You gave him a soft pat on the head and waited for him to close his eyes before pressing the button on the panel that closed the door with a quiet hiss.

You heard your name being said from above you and you went to the ladder that led to the cockpit, looking up to see the Mandalorian looking down. He had brought the ship out of hyperdrive for the time being as you researched a plan of action. Without coordinates, it was pointless to travel in circles and waste precious fuel.

“Can you come up here for a second?” he asked and you nodded.

Taking one rung at a time, you hauled yourself up into the main hull and gratefully accepted his help in order to plop your butt on the floor with a smile. You didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling back.

There had been precious little time for him to take off his helmet once you were back on the ship. Somehow the ship was less private than the bed you had shared in the barn. Although you were disappointed not to be able to look over and see his face whenever you wanted, you understood. This was a new experience for him in a way you would never understand, a type of vulnerability that you would never know, but how you longed to kiss him properly again. You wanted to feel his lips on the back of your neck as he curled himself behind you for sleep. All selfish reasons, of course, but that didn’t diminish them in any capacity.

“What’s up?” you asked as you leaned back on your hands and looked at him where he stooped beside the captain’s chair.

“I got you something.”

“Me?” You leaned up with widening eyes as you put a hand to your chest in question.

“Is there someone else I’m traveling with?” he asked and you glared at him before realizing it was his poor attempt at dry humor. “Yes, you.”

He moved under the chair and dragged a medium sized trunk out from the alcove created by the dashboard and the control panel. You recognized it as the trunk he had received from the armorer back on Nevarro. It was a dark slate colored material and he popped the latches before

beckoning you closer.

“I hope you like them.”

“Whatever it is,” you encouraged him. “I’m sure I will.”

“You don’t have to use any of it if you don’t want to--”

“Din, just show me.”

“Alright, okay,” he let out a heavy breath and lifted the lid before spinning the entire thing slowly around to show you.

“You didn’t have to get me anyth--oh, goddess,” you said softly in amazement.

Inside, carefully protected by a velvet type of lining, were crafted pieces of a silver metal. You hesitated, reaching out to touch one of them and thinking better of it before looking at him as if you needed permission. With a careful nod of his helmet, you picked up one of the cylindrical pieces and brought it closer for inspection.

“Is it--?”

“Beskar,” he nodded. “It’s yours.”

“Din, I--”

He held up a gloved hand to stop any argument you may have had and helped you take the pieces out one by one. Two bracers that fit perfectly over your wrists and protected your forearms about two inches from your elbows. He took them gently and slipped them over your tender skin before locking them into place and letting you get used to the feeling. You made a fist with both of your hands a few times, opening and squeezing, testing how they felt.

“They lock like this,” he said after completing the motion. “They’ll deflect anything. Blaster-proof. Just hold your arm like you would defensively,” he instructed, pulling your arm up to protect your face and tapping it once with his finger. “Ping. Right off the beskar. We can practice.”

“Handy,” you nodded and he dove back into the box for the next piece.

“This,” he offered the single pauldron to you, moving around your body slightly to fit it to your non-dominant shoulder. “Protects your dominant side by sitting opposite it.”

“Because I turn my body away from the blow?”

“Exactly.” He put it over your shoulder and clamped it down around your bicep. Hooking it securely across your torso. “Plus, the added weight on your dominant arm would slow you down if you’re using your staff.”

“Makes sense.”

“Move your arm,” he said and when you did, he adjusted it slightly. “How’s that?”

“It’s extremely generous and useful but--”

“No buts.”

“I--”

“You’re my Omega,” he interrupted you gently. “You have the right to wear it. And it’ll help keep you safe--and if you’re safe, I’m focused.” His hand came down to rest gently over your shoulder blade, covering the still tender skin of where he had marked you.

He had a point but it still made your ears burn with embarrassment. You knew he didn’t mean it as an insult to your abilities. You had more than proven you could handle your own when you first met, but the knowledge that your safety proved a distraction to him still made you feel guilty. You felt the sudden need to apologize but you knew Din wouldn’t want to hear it, let alone entertain such an idea.

“There’s one more piece,” he said gently. He held it out gently and when you looked at him in confusion he offered his hands forward. “Can I?”

You nodded and sat still with your hands in your lap as he made sure any stray pieces of your hair were out of the way. Even with the gloves and his armor, he was always so gentle, so careful. When he was satisfied he held out the silver circlet and slipped it around the front of your forehead and over your temples. The blocky beskar came to a strong point between your brows and the edges came down in front of your ears to frame the sides of your face. Each subtle point that mirrored the larger one turned what would have been an ordinary face guard into something much more symbolic.

“I feel ridiculous,” you said softly, not wanting to hurt his feelings but also having a hard time wrapping your head around the idea that such a piece of finery was really necessary.

“You look breathtaking,” he argued and it made you smile. “You’re an Omega, an Ursa at that--people deserve to know.” He swallowed hard and nodded to the box. “If we find more beskar I can have a proper helmet made instead of--”

“A tiara?” you asked with a bite of wit and he chuckled.

“It has more purpose than that, I promise.” He touched the sides that came down almost level with your jaw line. “These protect your peripherals--keeps light from obscuring your view for long range weapons.”

“Smart.”

“And this,” he touched higher, closer to your ear and a soft static hum came before you heard his next words twice, almost overlapping one another. “Has a direct com line to me.”

“That,” you put your hand over his and spoke into the mic as if to test it the other way. “Is incredibly useful.”

He gave a nod to signal that it had worked and he dropped his hand from your face to rest comfortably on your thigh. You put your hand over his and held in gently. It was beautifully crafted and you were having a hard time coming to terms with the idea that he had spent any of the rarest metal in the world on something for you. But that wasn’t the only issue, no, there was something else. An issue of the timeline.

“When did you have this made?” you asked, tracing the metal etching that lined the outside of the bracer.

“When we got the bounty on the kid--I had it made along with mine.”

“But that was before I agreed to be your Omega,” you said carefully, watching his body for any sign of tension. There wasn’t any.

“I know.”

You bit your lip and looked down. With a shake of your head, you swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking. “What if I would have left? What if I never agreed to this? You--”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I could have,” you argued. “And then all of this would have been for nothing. You--”

“I had a feeling.”

You looked at him in awe and realized how much he had staked on you making the right decision. He would have sooner sold his beskar than taken away your freedom, the freedom to choose what you wanted. He had hoped against all hope that you would eventually want him, but there was no guarantee. To Din it was all left up to faith. Faith in his creed, faith in his people, faith in you. It was hard not to feel undeserving of such things, but it only confirmed that perhaps it was time that you had a little faith in him.

Going up on your knees, you moved the metal storage box out of the way and grabbed him by the front of his chestplate. He said your name softly as you slid into his lap and his hands came around to rest on the swell of your hips. You tilted his helmet back just enough to kiss his lips, drawing a soft sound from them as he tasted you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly and you were glad you could see his mouth move up in a genuine smile.

“You’re very welcome.”

The more moments like this that you had, the easier it became to realize just how ‘all in’ you were when it came to the bounty hunter. When he had stepped off of his ship and chased you through the woods now flight like a lifetime ago and in a way it was. That was a different life completely. And you were okay with that. The world seemed a lot less scary now that you were on the same team.

You leaned in to kiss him again but there was a loud bang and whoosh of energy as something dropped out of hyperspace and the Razor Crest rocked slowly. Din lowered his helmet and the two of you looked around before you slowly climbed out of his lap and to your feet.

“What was that?”

“I’m not sure.”

He moved to the pilot’s chair and leaned over the control board, inspecting the map and waiting for the radar to ping something back. Nearly the exact moment a blip showed up on the neon green screen, a blast screamed passed your vessel and struck the ship, rocking it back and forth.

“Buckle in,” he barked and the two of you moved to your respective places.

You fell into the co-pilot bucket seat to the right of the Mandalorian and placed your feet up on the footrest to brace yourself. As soon as you clicked your seat belt, your fingers instinctively wrapped around the control stick in front of you and reached up to flip the buttons on your side of the dash. Your side of the ship whirred to life as you shared control of the panel with Din, making it easier for him to focus on flying. Like you had told him before, if he handled the fancy maneuvering, you could squeeze a trigger.

Another wave of fire lit up the dark atmosphere around you and Din turned the ship to try and find the culprit behind the attack.

“If the kid sleeps through this, I’ll be impressed,” Din said as he swiveled his own chair around and jammed the buttons for the back up thrusters.

“I’m pretty sure he could sleep through anything,” you agreed.

“Pa-too!”

The two of you both whipped around to see the small, green thing standing in the doorway with its arms in the air and a wide smile.

“You were saying?” the bounty hunter chuckled and the child stumbled its way to you as the ship took a nosedive. You barely had time to grab him by the tiny cloak and haul him into your lap.

“Got ya!” you said and he squealed with laughter. At least someone found your current predicament funny. You tucked him on your lap securely as a series of blaster fire whizzed passed the sides of the ship.

“Hand over the Child, Mando.” A deep voice said through the com-system and when the child in question squealed again you clapped your hand over his mouth. Another round of shots pinged around you and the crest gave a jolt as one of the engines took a hit. “I might let you live.”

“Guild?” you asked and Mando nodded before grabbing a large lever to his right and yanking it down quickly.

“You got both hands on the blaster cannons?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued. “When I say fire, let ‘em have it.”

Another hit rocked the ship as the engine on the left started to sputter and burst into flames before it powered down. Din cursed quietly under his helmet and pulled another lever to quickly power down both engines. “Hold on!” he yelled over the roar of the enemy ship as he rolled the crest out of the way of another round of fire. Stars streaked passed the windows as you both stared upwards and the other ship came directly into view.

“I can bring you in warm,” the enemy bounty hunter said flatly, “...or I can bring you in cold.”

“That's my line,” Din said in a deadly tone before he hit the thrusters and pointed at you and the kid. “Fire!”

You squeezed the trigger on the gun leavers and shots fired from the front of the razor crest, exploding the smaller ship into a wave of orange fire and metal debris. You flinched away from the bright light and the child clapped its tiny hands as Din gave you an approving nod.

“Oh-ah!”

“Not bad, little one,” you laughed softly, kissing the top of his green head between his ears. “Not bad.” Din clicked on a few of the switches above his head and the dashboard lit up in a series of red and orange lights. You watched him carefully and waited until he stopped before you spoke. “How bad is it?”

“We’re losing fuel,” he said, pulling up the map and thumbing through a few different screens. He thumbed through a few of the nearby planets before double tapping the screen and bringing up one of the larger orbs. “Mos Eisley is the closest place where we could dock and get some repairs.”

“Will we make it?”

“Of course.” He pulled another leaver and the ship gave a lurch forward before it evened out. “We have enough in the power reserves to get us there--don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” you said, biting your lip to keep a soft smile from gracing your features. The truth was, with Din, you were never worried.

Mos Eisley was the largest spaceport on the planet of Tatooine. Din explained that what it lacked in a centralized docking bay, they made up for in the fact that they had hundreds of hangars that were each maintained by individual workers and mechanics. It sounded impressive but to you it looked like little more than a patch of dust and poorly refined sandcastles.

The control tower told you to head for bay three-five and the Mandalorian copied as he steered the ship in that direction. The Crest had definitely seen better days as it sputtered and landed with jerky movements before finally touching down in a puff of sand and a clang of metal.

As you drifted through the vast emptiness of space before entering the atmosphere, the child had somehow lulled himself back to sleep. It was actually pretty impressive the amount of naps he managed to squeeze in in a day.

You carefully tucked him back into the sleeping compartment and put on the rest of the clothing you had from Arvala-7. It was still breathable but it wasn’t nearly as light as the cloth you had sported back on Sorgan. The leather riding pants and bantha hide boots would keep the sand out of your more intimate places, while the tan corded top and matching cloak kept your skin protected from the harsh sun without absorbing much of the light.

The beskar looked out of place with the rest of your attire, but something told you it was just the fact that you weren’t used to it. What was your favorite mantra as of late? One thing at a time.

You stopped in the doorway to the refresher and couldn’t help but stare at your reflection in the mirror. The metal of the headpiece that Din had tucked gingerly into your hairline. You had spent most of your life running from what you were: an Omega, an Ursa, a royal lineage of some kind that you had no desire to uphold. And yet, the tangible evidence was glittering on your forehead. Had Din designed such a thing or had it been at the behest of the Armorer? Somehow you felt you knew the answer to that.

You saw Din appear behind you in the mirror before you ever heard him and you prided yourself on not nearly jumping out of your skin.

"Good to go?"

When you nodded, he hit the button that started to lower the ramp on the main hull and you squinted against the bright sun. As you walked down the ramp a group of rust colored droids popped up from their current task and scurried towards the Mandalorian. Their saucer-shaped heads bobbed in place making them look like mushrooms on stilts as they surveyed the ship and chipped back and forth to one another.

Din pushed back his cloak and drew his blaster, firing one shot from the hip into the dirt. The droid squealed and jumped into the air before clamming up into a tiny ball.

“Mando!” you jumped and looked at him in surprise before looking back to the shivering droid.

“Hey!” a woman’s voice screeched from inside the building connected to the hangar. She pointed at the two of you through the window of what looked to be a very dusty office. “HEY!” she yelled again, scrambling out the door and stomping over to you.

Next to the Mandalorian she was incredibly short, but her demeanor was so incredibly scrappy that you weren’t entirely sure who you would bet on if the two of them were in a fight. Her grey mechanic’s jumpsuit was dusty and oil stained from no doubt thousands of ship repairs. Her hair was incredibly curly, poofing out in tight ringlets all around her head to her shoulders and seemed to be growing by the second as she jabbed her finger at Din’s chest.

“You damage one of my droids, you pay for it!”

“Just keep them away from my ship,” Din said flatly, pointed his own gloved finger to the fear-filled robot.

“Yeah? You think that's a good idea, do ya?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest before looking at you. “Blink twice if this brute is holding you hostage, honey. Though by the looks of ya, I’d say you can handle your own.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized on Din’s behalf before you introduced yourself and stepped in front of him. “We just need some repairs.”

“The name’s Peli,” she returned the politeness and shook your hand with strong, jerky movements. “He always this grumpy?” she nodded at the bounty hunter.

“Actually you caught him on a good day,” you smiled and she chuckled. Din sighed.

“Alright, well, let's look at your ship.” She picked up a clipboard and walked over to the crest. Looking it up and down slowly, she made a fist and knocked twice on the main hull and listened to the klonk that came from the inside.

“Is it bad?” you asked.

“Oof…” she winced as she wrote some things down. “Look at that.” She looked over her shoulder at you before gesturing to the sides of the ship. “Bad? You got a lot of carbon scoring building up top. Ya know--If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in a shootout.”

“Well…” you started and Din cleared his throat.

“Can you fix it?”

“Special tool for that one. Oh ya, I'm gonna have to rotate that…” She mumbled. Peli ignored you both as she continued to poke and prod the undercarriage of the ship before pulling down a side panel and coughing at the smoke that it produced. “You got a fuel leak! Look at that, this is a mess! How did you even land? That's gonna set you back.”

Din looked down at her as she walked back up to him and he tossed over a coin purse that jingled when she caught it. “I've got 500 Imperial Credits.”

“That all you got? Well…” she weighed the money in her hand and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She turned to the droids who were slowly approaching again now that she was there to protect them. “What do you guys think? I mean-- that should at least cover the hangar.”

“I'll get you your money,” Din reassured her.

“Ha! I've heard that before,” she rolled her eyes.

“I promise, we’ll pay you somehow,” you interjected and Peli looked you over again before waggling her finger at you.

“Now, you I believe.”

That made you smile and she returned it.

“Just remember--” Din started.

“Yeah. Yeah. No droids. I heard ya.” She stuffed the credits in her pocket. “You don't have to say it twice. Jeez. Womp rat.” She mumbled the last under her breath as the two of you took her dismissal as a sign you were free to leave.

You waited until you and Din were out of earshot before you glared at him in disappointment. “We have got to work on your people skills.”

Note: When imagining the headpiece Din had made for you, I was drawing heavy inspiration off of Queen Hippolyta’s crown. Something that keeps your hair out of the way, looks futuristic and strong.

Hey guys, as always there is always room on the tag lists! That being said there are about 300+ of you that want to be tagged in this fic and that is totally cool, but I am human and I miss names and forget tags, SO–if your tag didn’t work, I forgot it, or you want to be moved to another group, please message me or send me an ask. Even if you have already sent me one reminding me, I PROMISE it was not on purpose. A lot of times I wont answer until I have PHYSICALLY put you on the tag list that way I don’t forget! Thank you so much. - K

TAG LISTS:

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OCAC:

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#the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #mando x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #star wars fic #pedro character fic #pedro pascal x Reader #OCAC

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gotnofucks · 4 years ago

Text

A Man’s World

Pairing: soft!dark!Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: To advance in a man’s world, you must allow one to own you. He promises you success, as long as you give yourself to him.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Dub-con (at the beginning), smut, language, implied age gap, poor knowledge of law and legal system, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is my late entry to Berry’s Sugary 4k Challenge (everyone go and send some love to @donutloverxo for being so awesome. I am also dedicating this fic to Lexi ( @bluemusickid ) who’s had a difficult few weeks recently. I hope you feel better my love.

Sweat was building under your top hat, the urge to itch making you frustrated with the delay. The officer before you was young, probably your age and fumbled with the papers you had handed to him. You tried to relax, almost as nervous as the man in front of you and tried to console yourself with the fact that he was far too jittery to look at you long.

No one will find out, you’re safe.

“Sir?”

You chewed your chip, feet tapping irregularly on the ground in agitation.

“Sir?” The officer said again, peering at you worriedly. You quickly pulled down the rim of your hat, still not used to being called ‘sir’.

“Uh, yeah. Yes.” You said, clearing your throat and trying for a deeper voice. The officer handed you your papers back, all signed and stamped. “Thank you.”

He nodded slightly and motioned for you to wait while your client was brought out. This was the first time you’d been out in the open alone, the fear of discovery clashing with the freedom that ran in your veins.

“Did you bail me out?” A rough voice asked. You looked up at Mr. Lane, a huge mountain of a man who towered over you. You nodded and offered him your hand to shake, wincing as his rough palms scratched against your soft ones. He looked doubtfully at you and you could understand why. You barely looked like a person who belonged in the police station, no matter as a man or woman.

“I am Mr. Barber’s assistant. He was busy with a hearing and sent me to bail you out. If you’d follow me to his office, he’d like a word before we proceed to your trial next week.” You explained, a little more confident. You knew the work, you knew the ways. You only needed to sell your lies to make your truth valid.

Mr. Lane nodded, following and entering the coach outside the station after you. He sat across from you, eyes narrowing as he ran over your soft features, the clip clop of the horses the only sound within.

“You old enough to be an assistant, boy?” Mr. Lane asked, and you scowled. Oh, how you’d like to tell him you were old enough and good enough to be not just an assistant but also a lawyer. You could be the one representing him in court and making him a free man. You should be that one. But, alas, this world doesn’t see women doing much rather than peeling potatoes and popping out a child every second year.

“I am.” You replied in a gruff tone that made it clear you weren’t about to entertain more questions. Your companion nodded, looking out the window and into the streets where peddlers screamed about discounted watches and handkerchiefs and buttons. Not many people had cushioned coaches like this, but Mr. Barber insisted one for your travels.

The journey to the office was quick and silent and you gestured Mr. Lane to follow you up to the top floor where your boss sat in his office. Some people nodded at you, now getting used to seeing you here though they didn’t stop to talk. You had never spoken much to anyone here outside of the receptionist who was deaf in one ear and considered every man under the age of 40 was a boy.

“Wait here, I’ll let you in in a moment.” You said and had Mr. Lane take a seat on the benches outside. Then, you knocked softly and entered, shutting the door after you. Andy was sat behind his desk, frowning at some paper, and beckoned you closer without looking up from them. You walked over to him, licking you lips softly.

“Sit.” He said, taking your hand and pulling you into his lap. You positioned yourself on his thigh, squirming a little. He scribbled something in the corner of his paper before pushing it away with a sigh, turning his face to you. His eyes, bluer than the ocean at the docks, glittered at you and a small smile curled on his lips. With a practiced move, he removed your top hat and released the band that held your long locks tied together at the top.

Running his fingers through your hair, he leaned closer to press a kiss on your lips. You instinctively kissed back, holding onto his shoulder and moulding your lips to fit his.

“How did it go?” He asked, caressing your cheek softly. You fingered his collar, not looking in his eyes.

“I was worried someone will see through me.” You softly murmured. “There were so many men out there.”

Andy chuckled, pressing another kiss on your lips as his hand sneaked around your waist to bring you closer.

“There are always going to be men around. But you must remember you’re better than them. Better than any other son of a dick out there pretending he is the boss.”

You looked at him at that, taking in his beautiful face that had you smiling and crying in equal parts. You could tell exactly how that well-groomed beard felt between your legs, how those lips could make you utter the filthiest of sounds and curses and how those large hands touched you in the dark of the night.

“Better than even you?” You tentatively asked and Andy smiled, taking your hand and bringing it to his mouth.

“You’ve always been better than me.” He said. You blinked and looked away, his gaze far too intimate to hold. Try as you might, you could not figure this man out. Months you’d spent with him, living, and working and being his any way he asked, and yet he was as much a mystery as he’d been the first time you met.

“Uh, Mr. Lane is waiting outside. Should I call him in?” You asked and he nodded, squeezing your side before releasing you. You put your hair up again and wore your hat, hiding your face under its shadows and calling the client in.

When a girl turns a certain age, she is expected to find the most eligible bachelor and flutter her eyelashes in a bid to secure a match. Your mother threw grand balls for your sisters and was planning an even grander one for your introduction to the society. But you had had enough of dancing with lecherous bastards with as wandering hands as their eyes. You couldn’t stomach the thought of being bound to one of them, so you took your chance and ran.

Leaving behind your quaint town, you entered the bustling city with an assortment of clothes and a heart full of hope. It took you a week to understand that this was no place for you, no place for a lady who dreamt of being her own person. No one wished to employ you, a young girl who had no business demanding pay and rights.

However, in this bustling city of strangers, you found a man who wished to own you. Andy Barber told you in no uncertain terms that he would not hire you as long as you dressed like a woman, but he also promised that he could train you to be better than any other man. Provided, you give yourself to him. You weren’t naïve enough to pretend to not know what he was asking for, but you were desperate enough to say yes. This was better than a marriage anyway. There too, a man would have parched his thirst over your naked chest, but at least here you could learn and get paid for it without being bound to him.

Andy was not unkind. As a mentor, he was strict and meticulous. He worked you hard, taught you well, gave bitter feedback but praised you just the same. As a lover, he was exacting, exploring your chaste body with touches rough and soft, demanding response and reverence. The first night you laid with him, he spent hours worshiping you. His lips, lined by his bushy mustache, traced your face and neck, roving over each contour of your body until his mouth had tasted all.

The modesty you had guarded forever was bare to his gaze, but he didn’t lust like a man who cornered women in dark alleys. He had knelt before your open legs like men of cloth did at the lord’s altar, kissing the dewy folds of your sex with so much passion and delicacy that you had indeed felt like a goddess. Never had you imagined a man to put his mouth there, not when your mother had told you it was unclean. Andy, on the other hand, tasted it like he tasted absolution in your nectar.

He taught you more than simply law. The pleasures of flesh, of learning to please yourself and your companion were lessons that took place in the dark of night. He whispered things that Satan preached in your ear, seducing you into sin that you soon came to crave.

“Touch yourself”, a command he gave often. Nothing pleased him more than seeing you bring yourself to completion with your eyes trained on him, thoughts full only of him and how his body rocked yours.

You had done a great many things with him, things that had you flustered for days on end whenever your thoughts would turn to him, but what you were doing now was nothing short of scandal. It was blasphemous, something that would ruin you way more than if people found you falsely parading as a man in the city.

“Andy!” You hissed, pushing against him to no avail. He had dragged you into the men’s room inside the courthouse, cornering you against the wall and pressing his body flush to yours. He was wearing his best clothes today, about to represent an important man in a case that had made the front page for two weeks straight. Time together had been more work than pleasure, and it seemed Andy had reached his breaking point right before the trial started.

He started working on the buttons of your waistcoat, a frenzy in his eyes. “I need to take you now. This might as well be the most important case of my career, and I’ll begin it by being inside you, and end it just the same!”

You moaned, letting your hands roam his body as he finally undid your waistcoat and shirt, frantically ripping away at the bandages that bound your breasts. As he took one of your hardened nipples in his mouth, you palmed his pulsing hardness from over his pants, shivering at the thought of feeling it inside you again.

He scared you like this, for someone could walk in and see the illustrated Andrew Barber making a beast with two backs in the male room with someone who greatly resembled a man. He will be ruined. You would be ruined. And as of now, the very thought of that caused wetness to pool in your underpants.

“Get on your knees and taste me.” He urged, pulling out his cock and pumping it. “As you sit beside me today, I want you to have my taste in your mouth. One day, I’ll sit beside you too.”

You were a gently bred lady of impeccable reputation, but you sunk to your knees with the practiced move of a street woman to take him eagerly in your mouth. Oh, if your proper mother could see you, sucking a man like a whore in the damp men’s room, her teachings of propriety and modesty all but forgotten. But nothing made you feel more than a woman that receiving Andy like this. His desire, his need for you burned in his eyes and you lapped on those flames to quench the thirst in your heart.

His hand moved behind your head, easing you into taking him deeper. “Look at me” He whispered, and your eyes met his, shining with unshed tears. He did this to you, reduced you to who you loathed to be and yet loved. Swirling your tongue over his soft skin, you bobbed over his length, the squelching sounds filling the small room.

Just like always, you tasted his power and his yearning. The milky drops of precum coated your tongue, your nose taking in the smell of his musk as he groaned above you. He reduced you, but then why did you feel raised?

“Touch yourself, let me taste you too.” He ordered, and you complied. Your hand slipped inside your pants, finding your moist core. Generously lubing your fingers in your slick, you rose on shaky knees and presented your wet fingers to Andy who sucked them eagerly in his mouth. Warm, wet, his tongue took in your taste with relish.

You couldn’t stop but stare into his blue eyes, eyes that should have haunted your nightmares, but you only saw them in sweet dreams. “Kiss me” You begged, and he did. He kissed you like a man starved, like a man who could suck out your soul and draw it in himself. He kissed you like dew kissed the morning grass, like the colours of rainbow that scattered in the sky to paint it pretty.

“Tell me where you want me, how you want me.” He said, surrendering control. You stilled, hands resting on his chest. How were you to lead him when he was infinitely more experienced about the art of making love?

“I – I want you inside me.” You softly said, eyes fluttering as you shy looked away. Why was saying what you do so many times so difficult.

“Inside where?” Andy asked, tilting your chin up again. You gulped, your face and chest flushed.

“In my – in my” You stuttered, fearing to speak the word he spoke often. “In my pussy.”

You would have thought he would ravish you as soon as you said the words, instead he brought you closer and nudged your nose with his. His breath came out in erratic spurts, his need evident in his gaze. “You will put me inside you, however you want. It’s time I let you take some lead.”

Holding his gaze, you pumped his length gently before turning around and presenting him your ass. You struggled to position him, trying to place his tip at your opening. He didn’t move an inch to help you, only chuckling slightly when you huffed in frustration. Finally, you felt him at your slit, and you slid him between your folds carefully, trying to coat him in your wetness like you’d seen him do.

“What if someone walks in?” You asked, hesitating for just one moment.

“They’ll have to wait while we finish. You’re not walking out of here unsullied, so how about we hurry up?”

You pushed back into him, taking him inside your pulsing sleeve with ease. The stretch of his cock had always felt good, a pain that had a lasting effect and reminded you of him. As you moved back and forth, urging him to meet you halfway, you wondered why the self loathing never came. Andy had a way of making you feel like a queen when others may suspect you of nothing more than a whore.

“Andy” You brokenly said as he thrust inside you faster, “I want more. Please.”

He gave you more. He took over, holding onto your waist and sliding home inside you in deep, powerful strokes. You whined under his assault, jerking when his fingers found your nub and mashed it. Praises, curses, words of love and lust that had the power to destroy hearts and armies flowed freely from his mouth, as if the only thing tethering him to this earth was your body.

Your hands went to play with your breasts, a strangled moan caught in your chest. Suddenly, even when he moved inside you with such passion, you craved more intimacy than his cock could offer. You tilted your head to the side, offering him your mouth that he took in a sensual kiss. You were so close that you couldn’t decide what limb was yours and which was his anymore. In the age old dance of sensual love, you became one.

“What do you want?” He asked, and your eyes met his. He asked you this every time, and you had always answered the same thing. But today, this felt different. You were in the courthouse, a lawyer’s battleground and also the place of worship. He was more than your mentor and boss, he was also the man who you had grown to care for so deeply it could only be called one feeling.

“Inside me. I want you to finish inside me today.” You answered and his hands clutched you tighter. You’d never allowed that before, never allowed him to call you his so completely. But you felt compelled by his heat today, by the desperation he never bothered hiding from you. Once, this may have felt like a chore. Today, it was your blessing. “Andy, make me yours.”

He groaned, pumping in you with abandon and bringing you over the edge with his fingers that were running circles around your clit. You moaned loud, blubbering in pleasure that spilled from you, uncaring if someone were to walk in. His thrusts were getting irregular, hips jerking until you felt him twitch and release inside you in hot spurts. Warmth bloomed in your core, your essence mixing with his.

He hugged your sweaty body to his, the wool of his coat scratchy against your flesh. “You were mine, even before. Now, more so than ever. And one day, when you’re ready, I’ll claim you in front of the world as fully as my heart has done in private.”

You felt him run his thumb over your ring finger and licked your lips. He wasn’t asking, and you weren’t answering. But one day, maybe you will. Until then, you were happy to be his beautiful secret, posing as his assistant and learning from him.

“Don’t,” He whispered hotly in your ear, turning you around swiftly. “Don’t think too much. We’ve got a case to win.”

He helped you dress again, buttoning your shirt and waistcoat with nimble fingers. He was getting back to being your boss, and you couldn’t have been prouder of him at this moment. One day it will be you in his spot, you knew it.

“Just one question.” You said, fixing his tie and smoothening the wrinkles on his clothes. He raised an eyebrow at you, softly smiling at the mischievous look in his eyes. “What will happen once I am a lawyer too?”

Andy chuckled, pressing the softest of kisses on your lips. “Whoever wins more cases gets to be on top of course.”

You exited the men’s room with him, head high as any other man’s. As you entered the courtroom, you licked your lips and smiled as you tasted him on your tongue.

#sugary4kchallenge #soft!dark andy barber x reader #andy barber x reader #andy x reader #soft!dark andy barber #andy barber

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2goth2moth · 3 years ago

Note

Hey, can I request a blind date with a monster but they end up going home 👀 things get steamy

But then the monster's like "oh no, umm I gtg cuz I'm not human and they'll definitely find out now" kinda vibes?

(so it's basically human reader x shapeshifter in a universe where monsters are hidden)

You can come up with your own reasons for whatever ✌️ (any gender is fine) (I like were/minotaur monsters but you can pick any that you see fit)

Oof, ouch, this got a little more angsty than I wanted it to. I'm sorry! And I'm sorry it took so long. I hope you still enjoy ;-;

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Pleasant Surprises (M!Werebear x GN!Reader, NSFW)

Fun fact about me: Picking the xenomorph from Alien in a game of Fuck-Marry-Kill with @xo-philia when we were younger was my monsterfucker awakening! So I couldn't resist putting that in when I had to think of a movie.

Word count: 3430

Includes: Mild angst, mild hurt/comfort, size kink, fur, frottage, minor scent kink, blowjobs with copious amounts of cum, very minor (blink and you'll miss it) pain kink, less-than-ideal communication in sexual situations

Going on blind dates is a little like rolling dice. They always started in the same place, everyone had their little superstitions and rituals to try to make them come out right, but more often than not they ended with uncomfy kisses, awkward goodbyes, and an unspoken hope that you never had to see each other again (okay, the metaphor isn’t perfect, but the foundation holds true). Sometimes, however, blind dates turned out great, a perfect six (or whatever it is you needed to roll), and you ended up really liking the person.

Sometimes blind dates ended with you making out with a massive cutie on your couch after dinner.

The two of you had been introduced by a mutual friend, and had hit it off the minute you met. Characteristically uncomfortable small talk over mid-afternoon coffee smoothly turned into raucous laughter and flirtatious touching between bites of cheap greasy pizza on the hood of his car. You had no idea how the very attractive mountain of a man- Arthur, he’d said in a voice that seemed far too sweet for his intimidating figure- would react when you’d purred a suggestive (but not explicit) invitation to him, but his ears flushed and he stammered out a “yes” before taking your hand and following you inside. You wasted no time leading Arthur to your couch and sitting down next to him.

“So,” you said, “what kind of movie do you want to watch?”

“I like horror.” His voice was a rumbly baritone that distinctly reminded you of brown sugar. “And anything science-y.”

You wracked your brain for any good scary science movies that you had already watched and wouldn’t get distracted while watching again.

“How does Alien sound?”

It was a safe option, as far as you were concerned. It was a good film, a classic in both scary and science-y departments, and you’d seen it enough times that staying focused on the task of “seduce the hot guy on your couch” wouldn’t be too hard.

“I’ve seen it before…” Shit, maybe he wanted to watch something new. “But I always like rewatching it.”

You cheered internally, but kept a calm exterior as you went through the motions of setting up your TV. As soon as you did, you stood up to turn off the lights. “Anything I can get for you?” You asked, running a very flirtatious hand over his shoulders as you passed behind him.

A tiny shiver went through him at your touch, and you relished in it. “N-no, I’m good for now. Thank you, though.”

Your heart squeezed a little at his very pink ears and the blush staining the back of his neck.

God, he’s so cute.

It was impossible to deny yourself a longer-than-entirely-appropriate moment to take in the very pretty flush before flicking the lights off. With the room now dark, you made your way back to the couch. You sit down as close to Arthur as you dared. Warmth soaked through the inches between your bodies, and you had to physically resist the urge to move closer to him. Trying not to jump him right then and there was taking up so much of your brain-power that you didn’t notice his hand creeping towards you until a warm pinky brushed up against your thigh. You stifled a jump and turned to see his handsome, bearded face staring at you, bathed in the light from the TV.

“Is this okay?” He asked, just barely moving his fingers against your clothed leg.

You excitedly shifted in your seat so that you were facing him, kneecaps touching. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been actively holding back from kissing you for hours!”

“Oh.” His eyes went wide. “You can, if you want. I, um. I’d like you to.”

That was all the invitation you needed to dart forward and press your lips to his. It was quick and chaste, and you pulled back almost immediately. Arthur was frozen, awestruck, for several seconds before he shook himself slightly. He moved towards you cautiously, eyes darting nervously around your face, before cupping your jaw in his free hand and kissing you. His lips started moving against yours almost as soon as they touched, the motion a sweet push and pull between you, his beard just scratching against your face. The warm pinky against your leg became a large hand that rested on top of it, squeezing in time with the kiss. You hummed, pleased, and teased the seam of his lips with the tip of your tongue. Arthur’s hand tightened on your thigh and he opened his mouth to you. The kiss turned sloppy, tongues slipping together with slick, filthy sounds.

Arthur’s hand traced a firm path from your thigh to your hip, where it held tighter and stayed for several heated seconds. You pulled away from the kiss, your lips separating with a wet smack. He chased after you with a little whine, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder and lowering his other hand from your jaw to your hip. With another little noise deep the back of his throat, he began nosing against your neck and along your collar. You had to stifle a giggle at the feeling of his facial hair tickling your skin.

Stilling him with a hand to the back of his head, you carefully threaded your fingers through his hair and pulled him back. His eyes stuttered shut and he let out a barely-audible groan, hands twitching on your hips. You grinned and tightened your grip experimentally, very pleased with the strangled moan that he let out.

“You’re so hot,” you cooed to him

“You are too,” he panted, eyelashes fluttering with each pull of your fingers, which hadn’t let up yet.

The sight was too much for you. With a murmured “come here” you pulled him back to you, kissing him fiercely. It was rough, messy, all clacking teeth and noses bumping into each other. The sounds of your mouths moving together was obscene, and you could feel saliva slipping out where your lips met. You kept your hold on his hair, pulling his head this way and back to control the kiss, little spark of arousal went through you with each breathless moan that fell from Arthur’s mouth to yours. His hands kept gripping into your hips, growing tighter with each second that passed.

“Do you want me in your lap?” You asked, backing off just long enough to get the question out.

Arthur didn’t even bother doing that, nodding without breaking the kiss. Before you could even start to move, his hands slipped under your ass and he bodily moved you until you were straddling him. He was so warm beneath you, and you couldn’t help but grind down against him. The feeling of his cock, hot and impossibly hard beneath you, was intoxicating, and you rocked against him, groaning into his mouth with each motion. You could feel his bulge swell even more where it lay against the inside of your thigh. Somewhere in the back of your mind you distantly thought that getting him any harder should have been impossible, but you were too caught up in the feeling of wet, messy kisses being pressed to your jaw and neck to care. His body was moving under you, slight little shifts that you could feel echoing everywhere that he was pressed flush against you. The collar of your shirt was pulled down and away from your shoulder, the tip of his nail dragging against your skin, and he bit down on the newly-exposed skin, biting and sucking until you were whimpering in his lap, grinding down over and over again until you could feel your climax approach all too fast. Both of his hands had returned to their places on your waist, and they bit in as he pulled you to him, his own hips bucking up to meet yours every time. He had stopped his assault on your neck, no doubt leaving a dark, tender bruise behind, and his mouth lay slack and open against you, desperate moans and hot saliva spilling out. All of a sudden, ten pin pricks of sharp, impossible pain bloomed where his hands lay, and you came with a wail, hips stuttering to a stop against his.

Your eyes were closed tightly, chest heaving as you slumped over onto Arthur’s chest. He continued to grind his hard cock upwards, but it was much gentler now, slow rolls of his hips as one of his hands stroked your back. As you came down from your orgasm, you distantly noticed that the TV had stopped (stupid old piece of shit, never worked properly). You also realized just how uncomfortable the wetness of your pants was becoming, and you went to pull back. The hand that was caressing your back locked around your body. You shifted around, testing the give of his arms. Fully immobilized, but not necessarily complaining, you kissed his neck indulgently and wriggled your hips a little.

“As much as I’m enjoying this,” you purred into Arthur’s ear, “I really fucking want to suck you off.”

“Shit.”

You startled back as far as you could at the sound of his voice. The sweet brown-sugar baritone was shredded, gruff and way raspier than it had been.

Way raspier than it should have been, you thought.

You tried to pull back again. His arms didn’t budge. “Arthur, what’s up?” You asked gently.

A deep, quiet whine was his only response. “Did I do something wrong?” He tightened his grip on you, and your ribs groaned in protest. Your heartbeat began to climb as you squirmed again. “Arthur, let me go, you’re hurting me.”

The vice-like arms around you flew away from your body, a deep sigh of relief escaping your lungs. You went to pull back again, to look in his face and ask what was wrong, but his strangled voice stopped you in your tracks. “I’m sorry! I just… I didn’t want you to look at me.”

“Why? I’ve already seen you.”

“Not really. You wouldn’t be here if you had.” He sounded like he was about to cry.

Your heart squeezed painfully at the sound. Without a second thought, you leaned your face into the heated skin of his neck. You could feel hair there, thick and soft, that hadn’t been there before. “Whatever it is, I’ll do my best to not freak out. Or I can close my eyes and you can go, or calm down, or whatever you need to do. Just tell me what you want.”

“I want...I want to tell you,” he said, in that shy near-whisper of a shared secret. “You can look at me.”

Slowly, slow enough for him to tell you to stop, you shifted back to look at Arthur in the face. Whatever it was that you had been expecting, it wasn’t this. Thick, dark hair- no, now that you saw it up close it was very clearly fur- covered his face and neck, darkened his temples, sprung from his arms and hands. His jaw had broadened and lengthened, forming a sort of muzzle, and his canines had grown, pushing insistently at black-edged lips. Large claws tipped his furry hands. His gaze was dropped to his lap in what was clearly some combination of fear and shame, but…

You were undeniably intrigued by what you saw. Intrigued, confused, and more than a little aroused.

“You’re…”

“I’m a werebear.” Despite the new gruffness, his voice sounded fragile. “I’m a monster.”

You shook your head emphatically and leaned forward to put your arms around his shoulders. “I was going to say that you’re gorgeous, but sure, let’s go with that.”

Arthur blinked at you in confusion. “You’re not scared. Or disgusted.”

“Why should I be?” You asked. “You backed off when I told you to, you clearly don’t want to hurt me…”

“But I’m a monster!” He cut you off, heedless of how his hands moved to rest on your thighs. “I’m not normal, I’m not human.”

You silenced him with a finger to his lips. “And I don’t care. I like you quite a bit, if you couldn’t tell. This is just something fun and extra. I’m not going to run screaming for the hills, although I would like to know more about it, at some point..”

“Really?”

“Yes,” you said, all playfulness abandoning your face and voice, letting every ounce of sincerity you had in you spill over. “Really.”

Those large, furry arms wrapped around you, cradling your body against his in a warm embrace. You leaned into it, your hand rubbing the back of his neck. Hiccupping breaths stuttered through his chest and into you.

“Thank you,” his voice rumbled where it was tucked against your neck.

You shifted your weight in the hug, trying to ease the pressure on your knees, and felt his cock against the inside of your thigh. “Still hard?” You teased.

Arthur’s eyes shot open and he pulled away, face stained red under the fur. “Oh damn, I didn’t… shit, I’m sorry.!”

“Don’t apologize,” you cooed, careful not to brush his heated length. “Do you want me to help you with it? I did tell you how much I want to blow you.”

Seconds passed and you questioned whether you had crossed a line, staying stock-still until he nodded his head. “Yes, please.”

He sounded shy when he asked, and you couldn’t help but kiss the tip of his nose before slipping backwards off his lap to the floor. Now that you were level with his crotch, you could really take in just how big he was. The bulge in his pants had seemed large when he was under you, but in front of you it was massive. His thighs were thicker than they had been before, robust muscle and fat dwarfing your hands as you slid them up to his straining zipper. His body heat seared your palms through the fabric. You couldn’t help but wonder how you hadn’t noticed him shift beneath you. Without arousal clouding your brain, you could properly marvel at just how significant- how beautiful- his newly monstrous form was. Your hands paused over his fly and you looked up at him, staring through your lashes, silently waiting for permission to continue.

“Please touch me,” Arthur begged, his hips bucking up slightly.

You smiled at him, scooting forward and turning your head to kiss the inside of his knee, before slowly undoing his fly. Letting your fingers graze over him with maddening softness every time you could, you slid your hands up through the soft fur on his abdomen to push the bottom of his shirt out of the way. A groan escaped his mouth as you scratched over his stomach, into the warm, musky fur on his pelvis, and pulled the waistband of his boxers down just far enough for his dick to spring free, almost hitting you in the face.

The way he had pressed against the zipper of his pants had not done him justice. His shaft was easily the length of your forearm, the head flushed red and glistening with pre-cum. It bobbed and twitched with each minute movement of his body, a lewd display that you thought you could watch for hours. The base was surrounded by a nest of curly fur that you desperately wanted to bury your fingers- or your nose, dear Lord- into. A moment later, the euphoric realization came over you that you could.

You wasted no more time before ducking your head in and pressing an open, messy kiss to the underside of his length. Trailing your mouth along the thin skin, you happily made your way to that gorgeous dark fur. The feeling of nuzzling into it was unbelievable, the strands silky and thick on your skin, that lovely musk filling your senses and making your head go a little fuzzy. With a little moan, you pressed in closer, licking and kissing constantly, letting saliva slip out of your mouth to wet the base of Arthur’s shaft. You carefully tucked your fingers under the waist of his underwear to pull his balls free. They were covered in a dusting of that same fur, heavy and hot where you cupped them in your hands. You made your way back up his shaft, pausing indulgently to suck on the skin of his balls, relishing in the way that Arthur’s thighs quivered where they bracketed your shoulders. Clear, slick fluid dribbled from the head of his dick when you ran the tip of your tongue around its base. A drop fell to your face and you wiped it clean with the back of your hand.

“Oh shit.” His voice came out rumbly and strangled when you delicately lapped pre-cum from the prettily flushed head.

A quick glance upwards showed his bottom lip caught between wickedly sharp teeth, face reddened and eyes shut tight. You mentally promised yourself that one day, if Arthur gave you the chance, you would edge him until he cried with just your mouth.

This was not that day.

In a single swift motion, you stretched your mouth as far around his cock as it would go. You could barely take a quarter of the length and your jaw began aching in seconds, but all you could think was how damn good his heated flesh felt against the inside of your mouth. A moan broke free of your throat, sending vibrations down his massive cock. More pre-cum squirted directly into the back of your mouth and he bucked his hips up, only slightly, but still enough to make you choke around him and draw tears to your eyes.

His balls tightened where they were still cupped in your hands, and you could tell he was close. As disappointed as you were that you couldn’t keep going longer, you knew that he had already been close to his climax when you were dry-humping each other like a pair of horny teenagers. Besides, your jaw was really starting to hurt from where it was gaped around his huge girth. Pulling back far enough that his cockhead just barely rested against your lips, you paused for several seconds, never letting the slick tip leave your skin, smearing a combination of spit and pre-cum onto your mouth and cheeks. You panted, catching your breath for a few moments before you took him back in. Suckling delicately at his tip, you relished in the bursts of pre-cum that shot into you before steeling yourself, relaxing your throat, and swallowing his shaft as far as it would go.

Arthur cried out, the sound deliciously caught between a growl and a wail. His breaths turned ragged, control fraying from arousal and the effort it took him not to fuck upwards into your mouth. You desperately wanted him to feel good, and began working him over aggressively. You bobbed your head up and down, copious amounts of spit sliding down his shaft, gagging as you took him down as far as physically possible. Swallowing around him when his cock hit the back of your throat, your mouth rippled around him and you rolled his balls in your hands.

“I’m...fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

With a great deal of effort, you pulled your tongue back and probed it into the slit at the end of his head. Clearly the intrusion, coupled with the slick pressure of your mouth and loving caress of your hands, was too much, and it pushed him over the edge of his climax.

Salty, bitter cum shot down your throat in thick ropes, making you choke again. You swallowed as much as you could, but it was just too much, and you pulled off, coughing. His orgasm kept going, longer than any you had ever seen before, covering your face and torso with sticky cum. It dripped from your body onto the tile beneath you, spilled from the corners of your mouth, hung in creamy drops from your eyelashes.

A huge, clawed hand carefully wiped the spend from your eyes, moving to cup the back of your head. “Are you okay?” Arthur’s voice was gentle and concerned under the animalistic rasp.

You nodded tiredly, leaning into one of his thick thighs. Exhausted from the excitement, your eyes began to slip closed, your breath evening out into the shallow rhythm of sleep. The last thing you felt was a sweet kiss on your forehead and Arthur’s deep rumbly baritone.

“We’ll talk when you wake up. I promise.”

#shoutout to Teeth for corrupting me!#also you guys should 100% check out his blog if you haven't #it's good shit #monster fucker #monster lover #exophilia #terato #monster x human #monster boyfriend #smut #nsft #enthusiastic consent #minors do not interact #terfs dont fucking touch #bigots dni

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kuroopaisen · 4 years ago

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brat || gojou satoru

➵ gojou wants you to pay attention to him. and no, he doesn’t care about how annoying he’s being.

wc: 2k

warnings: gn!reader, gojou is Annoying, mild spoilers i guess?

a/n: hi welcome to my gojou brainrot i would like to escape and yet i cannot,,, will i deliver more mindless fanfic? who knows!

You sigh, turning the page of your book with an exhausted kind of resignation. Had you even comprehended what’s in the last paragraph? Or had you just let your eyes gloss over it, admiring the shape of the letters without actually taking any of them in?

Reading a book isn’t so difficult under normal circumstances; sure, you’ve got your own concentration to wrestle with, but that’s an (occasionally) tameable beast.

The man sprawled on the couch next to you, however, is not.

“Are you done yet?” Gojou hums, sticking his legs straight up in the air.

“I’ll be done sooner if you shut up,” you mumble, starting from the top of the page for what feels like the thirty-second time in the past five minutes.

Gojou’s not handling the boredom well. He’s spent the past five minutes cycling between humming Danse Macabre in an octave too high to be comfortable while swinging his legs in circles and poking your cheek as he crouches next to you on his knees.

“You’re the one who said I could come over,” he chirps, completely unfazed by your words.

“I never said that,” you mumble.

It’s not a lie. Earlier today, Gojou’d asked if you were going out tonight. You’d said no. He’d decided to take that as permission to crash at your place.

Although the onus is at least a little on you; he has a habit of doing things like this. You’ve got to be one step ahead of him if you want to win against him on a petty debate like that.

A head of white hair wriggles its way onto your lap.

“Satoru?”

“Hm?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m bored,” he hums.

That much is obvious. But you know it’s not that simple; he’s bored, yes, but more importantly, he wants your attention. Even your chest flutters at that.

“You’re a grown man,” you smile. “Entertain yourself.”

A well-worn coquettish smile plays on his lips. “I can’t tell if you’re being lewd or not.”

You slap his chest.

“Ow!” He gasps, placing a hand over his heart. “I can’t believe you’d be so cruel to me!”

“Then stop being annoying.”

“I’d like to think I’m ‘charmingly playful’.”

“Do you take constructive criticism?” You tilt your head at him, biting back a smile.

“I would,” he muses, “if I weren’t already perfect.”

“That ego of yours is going to get you into serious trouble one day,” you grin, flicking his forehead gently.

He lets you, grinning back. “Ah, but you see, my dear,” he hums, grabbing your hand before you draw it away and lacing your fingers with his. It’s a bit of an awkward angle, but you don’t mind.

“I’m simply stating the truth.”

“Well, the truth hurts,” you mutter, “so it’s no surprise no-one wants to hear you gassing yourself up.”

Gojou laughs. His hair tickles your inner thighs and you’re almost convinced to give in. But it wouldn’t be good form to feed his ego after chiding him for it.

You’re well-aware his ego’s already gotten him in trouble – many times, in fact. But Gojou seems to have a way of wheedling his way out of anything.

And, of course, you know that his ego doesn’t come from nowhere.

Doesn’t stop it from being annoying, though. The fact it’s at least partially well-founded makes it worse.

You take a deep breath, turning your attention back to this blasted book. Gojou will just have to wait.

“Why are you even reading that brick?” He muses, tapping the bottom of the book’s spine with one long finger. “You look bored out of your mind. And, you’ve been on the same page for the past five minutes.”

“You know,” you tilt your head to the side, a sour look on your face. “‘Adult stuff.’ Upskilling and all that.”

“Ah,” Gojou grins. “Career work.”

“Mhm,” you sigh. “And some of us can’t just learn on the job.”

Although, you ponder, the thought blurred with gentle melancholy, some of us aren’t constantly risking our lives.

Gojou always tells you not to worry; he’s the strongest jujutsu sorcerer there is, after all. But even that’s not enough to lull you into an uneasy sleep, to bring you warmth when your bed is cold.

You’re never truly at ease until you feel him slip into your bed in the early hours of the morning, his arms slinking around your waist and pulling you towards him. It’s like clockwork how he buries his head in your shoulder as every muscle in his body relaxes. He always thinks you’re asleep – and honestly, it’s easier to let him keep believing that.

What you’ve got isn’t exactly a ‘relationship’. At least, not in the most traditional sense of the word. Gojou’s never pretended to offer you that. But it’s not so simple as a ‘friends-with-benefits’ arrangement.

Gojou Satoru doesn’t suit the domestic. But he relishes in it, the same way a child might enjoy playing at high tea with little plastic teacups and cupcakes made of playdough. Some might find this frustrating – the idea of existing in this grey, a dark, nebulous unknown stippled with moments of affection and vulnerability.

But there’s still comfort in it; a sense of understanding, a place to let loose and relax. Being part of this world is hard. It’s so cruel – sending children out to fight things they barely comprehend, letting them suffer and even die. And what do they have to show for it? A future of doing the same thing while also having to navigate just how shit the world of sorcerers truly is?

Why aren’t more of your colleagues angry about this? One counsellor isn’t enough to maintain the wellbeing of these children. Do the higher-ups even care? Well, you know the answer to that question – it’s enough to make you want to throttle each and every one of them—

“Hey.”

You clatter back to earth, met by a pair of electric blue eyes. It’s easy to forget just how striking they are; it’s like they can stare right into your very core, laying out secrets you never even knew you had.

“Hm?” You blink at him. You can’t risk him knowing you’re worried. He doesn’t stand for that sort of thing; he’ll just tease you for being concerned about him. Though, you’re well-aware that he enjoys being doted on.

“You’re spacing out,” he smiles. “Again.”

Sure, he sounds like he’s joking. But even he can’t disguise that little flash in his eyes, the slight tension in his face. It’s the same expression he has when he talks about that new student of his.

Gojou understands you better than you’d like. Every little tell, every tiny hint towards what you’re actually thinking. It’s near impossible to hide anything from him; it’s irritating, really.

But, at least he’s got the decency to leave the direction of the conversation in your hands.

You weigh it for a moment, deciding how exactly to respond. Should you play it off and throw his brattiness back in his face? Or should you pry open that conversation like the doors of an old temple?

Today’s not the day. Neither of you are ready for that.

You stick your tongue out at him. Perhaps it’s not how an adult should behave, but you don’t care. Neither does Gojou.

“I think,” he sighs, plucking the book out of your hands and tossing it across the room, “it’s time you took a break.”

You yelp a moment too late, watching your book slap against the wall and flop to the floor. It’s only a paperback – thank God – but you’re not ready to fix another dent in the wall caused by the force of mayhem known as Gojou Satoru.

“And I have been waiting long enough,” he grins, wrapping his arms around your neck and launching forward.

“Satoru—”

It’s too late. He’s got you pinned beneath him – and not in a sexy way. All six feet and three inches of him is laid flat on top of you, your face smothered by his chest.

You punch his side weakly.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” he laughs.

“Fine,” you try to say. All you get is a mouthful of Gojou’s shirt. You slip your hands up said shirt and tickle his sides.

“Hey, hey, hey—” He splutters, grabbing at your wrists.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” You smirk, continuing your assault.

Gojou whines, propping himself up by his palms and arching his back like a cat in an attempt to shake you off.

“Get back here,” you grin, lifting your torso in response.

His arms are immediately wrapped around you, pinning your own arms to your sides. You yelp in surprise, finding yourself laid gently against the couch with your face pressed against his neck.

“Much better,” Gojou chuckles, still on top of you as he nestles his head into your shoulder.

It’s not the most comfortable position, but that’s rarely a priority when it comes to Gojou. You wouldn’t be surprised if this wasn’t just his way of goading you into relocating to your bed for ease of cuddling (although you have your doubts that it’s the only thing on his mind).

“You want attention that bad, huh?” You chuckle, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.

“Mhm,” he smirks, bringing his head up to get a proper look at you. “I’m a busy man, you know. I don’t think you’re appreciating my free time enough.”

“And yet, you never seem to leave my damn house,” you muse. “I’m starting to think you don’t actually have a job.”

Gojou laughs, leaning down and kissing you properly.

“That’s not an answer,” you say against his lips.

He ignores you, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You sigh, conceding. His lips are so soft yet so persistent, somehow both desperate and playful. He’s aggravatingly good at this sort of thing – before Gojou, you didn’t really understand what it meant to be a ‘good kisser’. But of course, he manages to excel at this, too. And annoyingly enough, he’d been right to brag about it.

He brings one hand up to cup your cheek and moves another down to your waist. It’s a surprisingly chaste move for him, but you don’t mind. You tangle your own hands in his hair, resisting the urge to tug it. If you do that, you’ll officially lose any chance of getting more reading done tonight. Although your ability to focus on anything other than him is waning quickly.

When Gojou pulls back, he’s got that look in his eyes. The one that always makes your cheeks flush, makes your heart feel a little lighter. The one that almost makes you say something stupid.

Thank God you always have your wits about you.

“You get five minutes,” you sigh. “And then you’ve got to let me finish the chapter I’m on, okay? Then I’m all yours.”

Gojou’s grin blossoms with delight.

He slots himself beneath your chin and rests his cheek against your chest. A hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You smile, propping your chin on the top of his head and wrapping your arms around him.

Despite all his big talk, his irksome demeanour, even his obnoxious height, Gojou Satoru loves to be held.

You always oblige. He never asks – that’s too close to admitting weakness.

But you understand. He needs this. Sometimes he just wants to be tended to.

Being let in like this is an honour. He’s letting you be part of his life, despite his grand plans. Plans that, when he’d told you them, shifted your whole understanding of him.

Gojou represents change.

You have to have faith in him. You have to believe he’ll make good on his promises and turn the sorcerer world on its head. It’s no easy burden; and despite what he claims, even he falters in the face of something so monumental.

But despite all that, he’s still him. He hasn’t let the weight of his goals crush him; at least, not entirely. He finds the little joys, indulges in mundane delights, sees the humour in things.

Gojou Satoru wants to change the world, but he still lets himself be a part of it.

Perhaps that’s why it’s so easy to love him.

Even if he can’t offer the stability and promise of a stable relationship.

Even if he’s a little brat.

#gojou x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo saturo x reader #gojou x you #gojou staoru x you #today on: rowan can't shut up!#free me from this hell!

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bibbykins · 4 years ago

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Rocking Chairs and Rocking Cars

A/N: No full blown smut here, but ofc horny thoughts remain! I should be posting the aftermath texts and what not soon, but I hope you enjoy this in the mean time! It’s a bit rushed, but I hope that doesn’t ruin the experience for you! As always, tips are appreciated since I am saving up to buy a house with my gf, but ofc tips are not required! Hope you all have a great day/night!

Note: This is a drabble for The Household’s Bunny Series

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jungkook x Chubby! Reader x Soft Yandere! Hoseok

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: 18+, crying, lonliness, body image issues, unhealthy workout habits, abandonment, allusions to body dysmorphia, mommy issues, grinding, lustful thoughts, mentions of cumming, mentions of erections, pussy cupping (?), not rlly yandere although this is kinda a soft yandere series, obsessive behaviors, low self esteem, horrible communication, mentions of anxiety, mentions of car shaking

The house was quiet, and somehow knowing that no one else was home made your floor feel that much more empty. Granted, none of the guys came up all that often. Ever the gentlemen, they actively tried not to intrude on your space. Although, you really wish they did on days like these. It was 10am on a Saturday morning, although the lack of natural light could fool anyone otherwise. The clouds were heavy in the sky, cradling the sunlight in a thick blanket of grey, squeezing themselves for all the water they have. The rain tapped on your window, almost mocking you, reminding you that water was the only company you had.

You debated texting to ask if anyone wanted to come home and have a movie night, or build a fort, or just simply sit next to you, but decided you would just be bothering them. You had that very intimate moment with Jin and Yoongi, and they had remained sweet with you, but you weren’t able to be intimate with them again yet. They had been busy and you had been deprived of the very addicting affection. You’re sure they would come to you if asked, but you didn’t want to be clingy. The last thing you wanted to do was annoy them by following them around like a puppy just because they made you cum. They hadn’t explicitly stated they liked you as anything more than a friend, and you never wanted to go through the embarrassment of assuming such a thing again.

With college almost done, you had nothing to distract you from the looming loneliness you feel sometimes, and it was exhausting. You grew up by yourself, and you swore that would change when you were older. You were determined to be surrounded by people who loved you as much as you loved them, and yet, here you were. You were laying on a couch, watching the rain fall, all by yourself in a 10 floor renovated motel, reaping the consequences of high hopes and naivety your child self didn’t understand. You were never good at making friends, not that your plump figure helped you with your social drawbacks either. Although you made peace with your lack of charisma in person and have made strides to loving your body, the loneliness never subsided for long.

There were few things you loved more than talking to people and having them listen to you and vice versa, and yet it rarely happened. Maybe you had been spoiled by your seven housemates, so it was making this bout of loneliness that much worse. Since moving in, there was almost always someone home making noise or even talking to you. However, they all told you summer was their busy season, and boy, they weren’t kidding. You had caught mere glimpses of the boys this week, only communicating via text and post it notes.

You pressed your eyes closed for a moment as you listened to the rain. You thought of your mom. Her cheeks were chubby like yours and you remember her crying when she figured your metabolism was the same as hers, and you couldn’t understand why she hated herself so much that she wanted you to be nothing like her. Your mother had always been beautiful in your opinion, and it was a shame she never saw herself, or you, in that way. You thought about forcing yourself to go to the gym with her for hours on end, just to be able to be next to her. You had always been desperate for her company, desperate to be liked by her. Part of you regrets putting your body through that, but then a part of you is happy you were able to spend time with her until she left.

Ah, yes, the day she left. That’s exactly what you should be thinking about right now, on a rainy day, all by yourself. You cringed when you felt a tear get a little too close to your ear, wiping it away. You were shocked when you felt even more in its wake. You always felt really silly when you cried, but you figured you might as well let it happen if you're gonna be home alone on a rainy day, thinking of all the ways people avoided spending time with you while you tried even harder to spend time with them. Who's next? Jungyoon? The uncle who took you in just to admit drunkenly how much the sight of you upsets him three hours into your 17th birthday. Your dad? No. That's not wise.

You sighed. Maybe if you had learned better social cues when you were younger, you wouldn't be a college graduate with no friends to talk to.

It didn't take long for you to break into full on sobs. You stuck somewhere between angry at the people who didn't want to be with you and sad that they didn't want to. Childishly, you deemed it wasn't fair and all you could do was cry. You hadn't had a day like this in a while, but holy shit did it suck each time.

Eventually, you ceased your tears and were left a red and puffy mess, so you decided to go to the kitchen to depuff your face with some ice. Then the rest of your day could only go up from here. You had your cry, and even though the elevator was going down, your day would only go-

OH NO WHY IS IT STOPPING AT FLOOR 5?!

You couldn't even think of who it could be as you looked in the mirror at the corner of the elevator and wished to evaporate. You had obviously been crying, terribly. Nevermind you were in a cropped long sleeve, short shorts, and thigh highs, your eyes were red and a little puffy, your cheeks were clearly tear stained, and even your lips were swollen. You couldn't, "oh, it's allergies." Your way out of this one.

"I didn't know you were home, Hobi." You murmured.

"Yeah, I just popped in real quick to grab something before I go back to…" Hoseok's smile dropped the instant he saw your face. You didn't even have the chance to look away, but you tried to anyway. He gently gripped your chin, guiding your eyes to meet his, "Bunny, is everything okay?"

You pressed your lips together before nodding, "Yeah, it's just…" You glanced at his face, surprised to see him clinging onto your every word, "Sometimes, I get lonely." You shrugged as his eyes widened, "I get to thinking about my mom and…" You made vague hand movements as you shrugged.

He thought for a moment, “Even though we all kind of grew up together, we never really treated each other like more than roommates, but you’re here now.” He pulled you into a tight hug and you gasped before relaxing into his embrace. You closed your eyes for a moment as you held him close to you, "We've all been really busy, I didn't even consider how lonely you would feel." He lamented and you shook your head.

"I'm a big girl, I can be alone." Your words were muffled in his shirt, "It's just a little crying-"

"But you don't have to be alone anymore, and I don't want you to cry, none of us do." He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead, "Thinking about my mom used to really ruin my day, doesn't now, so don't worry, but that took time." You nodded, feeling tears creep in again.

"Thank you." You hummed as he pulled back, "Sorry to-"

He shushed you, putting his finger on your lips, shaking his head at your apology.He leaned his forehead on yours, making your breath hitch, "Do you want to go with me?" He asked softly.

You blinked in confusion, "With you, where?"

His grin only widened and you looked to him skeptically, “Do you trust me?” He asked all too innocently and you nodded, “Then, do you want to go with me?” He asked again as he placed purple-tinted sunglasses on his face.

“I suppose…” You studied his smug face, “Let me go change-” You went to press the next floor so you could get off but were stopped with a soft grip from Hoseok.

“I’m in a bit of a rush, and you look great.” He smiled as the elevator reached the entrance.

You wanted to protest, but you let it be. Surely you would not stick out in the slightly scandalous outfit you were in.Truthfully, it was your body that seemed to make it scandalous to other people. Although, if you had a skirt on, it would just be a typical outfit for you, so maybe it wasn’t so weird? These thoughts ran through your mind as you slipped on some shoes and went into Hoseok’s very nice car.

So are you gonna tell me where we’re going or…?” You asked as the renowned hair stylist drove with a smirk in response to your question, “Okay Mr. Mysterious, can I ask questions about it until we get there?” You asked cheekily.

He chuckled, “Of course, you can do whatever you want, baby.” His voice was silky smooth and the nickname shot straight to your nether regions and you scolded yourself for it.

“Are we going to a job of yours or am I just running errands with you?” You looked at his unwavering smile as you asked.

“A job, but the client will not mind if you’re there, before you ask.” He stole your next question by answering it smugly. You pursed your lips as you studied him. He was in a lavender dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and sleek navy blue slacks, all of which complimented his black hair.

You, on the other hand, wore a baby pink turtleneck with the hem ending just barely above your matching form-fitting high-waisted fabric shorts, showing just a sliver of your stomach skin while a lot of your thigh skin was on display with white over-the knee socks. You had taken scandalous photos for your OnlyFans, and if you lifted your arms all the way up, a lacy bralette would greet the outside world. You were just feeling a bit self conscious considering the well dressed man in the car next to you. Sure, you looked cute, but was this level cute appropriate for his job? You didn’t want to make a bad impression and have that effect Hoseok.

“And here we are.” He sang and you snapped back to reality as he parked behind a building that had no defining qualities from the back. The ride went by in a flash and you pouted a bit at not even asking another question.

Ever the gentleman, he opened the door for you as he led you inside with him. The hallways were crowded with people running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Judging by the bits of chatter you could pick up as you scurried behind Hoseok, this was a photography studio and a high-level star was having a photoshoot.

“Oh thank goodness you’re here!” A man that seemed to be in his late 30s sighed in relief when he saw Hoseok, “He is in the worst mood today, and I’m so frightened-who is that?” The man’s wild eyes fixated on you for the briefest of moments and he realized your puffy features and shook his head, “Whatever, just go in there and calm him-”

“This is our housemate, y/n, and the shoot isn’t for another 30 minutes and he just needs hair, right?” Hoseok spoke calmly in spite of the chaos surrounding the both of you as the man nodded, “Great, I just need to touch him up and we’ll calm him down in time to take some good photos.” The man nodded tiredly, “Is the dressing room empty now?”

“Yeah, he kicked everyone out so he could calm down, but that never works.” The man cried out helplessly, “Why is he so frightening?!” Hoseok simply patted the man before navigating the hallways. Frightening? The man shivering looked quite burly and tall, who could be scaring him so much?

The “we’ll” made you nervous, but you held Hoseok’s hand so you wouldn’t get lost until he pushed through a dressing room door, “Hobi’s here.” He chimed and you heard a man behind a partition grunt. You looked around the spacious room to see a comfy looking green L couch along with a wooden rocking chair, which you thought was interesting. Beyond that, there was the typically lavish amount of mirrors and counter space, “I also brought a surprise!” Hoseok sang and you were ripped from your observations.

“It better not be anything dumb-” Jungkook’s voice died on the impact that was emerging from the partition and seeing you. Hise eyes studied your body, namely the slight squish of skin between your socks and shorts, which made his pants feel a bit tight, “Y/n, what…”His voice trailed off when he noticed you had definitely been crying, and not long ago. Right as he was going to accuse Hoseok, he saw you let go of his hand and give him a smile, figuring it wasn’t him that made you upset.

Your eyes brightened when you saw a familiar face, “Oh hi, Kook!” You beamed, “I didn’t realize Hoseok was taking me with him to see you, how nice!” You cheered, “I’ll be out of your way while you work, though!” You went to go sit on the couch as Jungkook nodded, robotically making his way to the chair in front of the mirror. He wore a silky black shirt with a harness around his waist and black slacks with razor thin pinstripes and black dress shoes. His hair was styled mostly to perfection, making you wonder what more there was to do. Alas, you weren’t the professional.

Hoseok looked to the younger man with a smug smile, “Just some last touches need to be done and then you can calm your nerves a bit with our little bunny.” He chided and Jungkook scoffed.

It took no more than five minutes for Hoseok to style the star’s hair into further perfection, “Wow, you look super handsome, Kook!” You cheered, earning a small smile from the man in question.

Hoseo chuckled, “He does indeed.” He cooed, making the younger man scowl, “Now, you have some time to zen out with bunny, use it wisely. I’ll come get you when it’s time.” He patted Jungkook before giving you a wink and exiting the room.

“You having a bad day-”

‘Were you crying?” His voice sliced through yours and you’re taken aback for a moment. With no response, he stood, making his way over to you. He towered over you before leaning down to grip your chin lightly, “Were you?” A hint of worry flashes across his eyes, and you wondered if you were just seeing things.

“Yeah… I was just feeling lonely.” You speak honestly, shrugging, “It’s not a big deal-”

“Why didn’t you call me-or anyone?” He asked, voice rushed as his eyes searched your face for an answer. It’s like an interrogation that you don’t have comprehensive answers for, so you shrug.

“Everyone was busy.” You murmur, “I only cried because I thought about my mom and stuff, it’s okay.” You avoided eye contact with him as you said this, feeling out of your element talking about your mom. This made his mouth part, but he haid no words. He understood what you meant, and that made it all the more harder to comfort you.

Jungkook sighed at how you’ve shrunk under his barrage of questions and sinks down to his knees, his hands going to your waist, stroking the sliver of exposed skin, “Nobody was mean to you, right? You didn’t cry because anyone bothered you?” You smiled at his tenderness before nodding.

You watched his face, studying the cleverly concealed dark circles under his eyes and gave him a sad smile, “Are you having a bad day too, Kook?” You asked softly and he sighed, like he was letting himself relax for the first time before nodding, “I see..” You thought for a moment, unsure how to make him feel better until you remembered, “Did you want to touch my thighs?” You said the first thing that came to mind and before you could be embarrassed, he nodded, "Okay, how do you want me?"

What a question, Jungkook thought, smiling tiredly, "Sit in my lap?" He looked up at you hopefully and you nodded.

"I won't be too heavy or anyth-woah!" You gasped when he lifted you, legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the rocking chair, sitting you both down, "I stand corrected." You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck while his hands placed themselves on your thighs.

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling your thighs in his hands, rocking you both back and forth. In every dressing room, he required a rocking chair, in case he needed to calm down. He debuted at the ripe age of 15 and with no guardian until 17, he was prone to panic attacks. The company sent him to therapy and the rocking chair was introduced. He never let anyone touch the chair, but he couldn't deny how nice it was having you in his arms, cradling his head into your bosom.

“I like the rocking chair, very calming.” You mused, as if reading his mind and he offered a tired hum in agreement.

The day had truly been terrible. Stage after stage, minimal hours of sleep, and stupid people asking the same stupid question. And yet, here you were, hands stroking the skin on his neck as he lost himself in your form. Your thighs were softer than he anticipated, and he felt himself let out an exhausted sigh, finally relaxing into you.

"You haven't been home a lot, so I get why you're so stressed." You mused into his hair, "But you should go a bit easy on the staff, I just saw a buff thirty-something year old near tears when we came in." You giggled and Jungkook couldn't help but laugh a bit.

"Sungmin is my manager, he can take it." He felt blissful for the first time in a while as he rocked you both back and forth, his thumbs stroking the supple skin of your thighs.

"Still, maybe if people aren't so stressed around you, it might ease your stress." You chided softly, pressing a chaste kiss to his head.

The affection made his eyes flutter closed and he hummed, "We'll see, but don't hold your breath." He joked.

You had never felt Jungkook so calm before. Usually he has something snarky or detached to say. Some kind of non committal or indifferent comment, but he was too exhausted to do even that. You smiled softly at the cozyoment and the affection. It was hard to realize how touch starved you were, dreading when you would have to get up.

Youboth rocked back and forth for an indeterminate amount of time, too wrapped up in the calmness of each other’s presence to say much at all.

Finally, you spoke up a bit, "This is making me feel better. I like the closeness a lot." You hummed softly, "I remember when I was in some club in highschool, we were taking photos with girls on the guys's backs and all the guys scrambled to not have to give me a piggyback ride, so I just stood on my own." You did a short laugh. Jungkook fumed at the idea of stupid people making you feel like anything less than perfect, but you continued, "And now I'm in the lap of a pop star, it's a little funny." Now he felt smug, giving your thigh a small squeeze.

"Sounds like you had some weak ass guys in your highschool club." He snorted, leaning his head up as you settled down onto his lap further, now looking eye to eye with your torsos farther apart, his feet planted firmly on the floor to keep the rocking chair still, "I'll deny I was ever this nice, but," He studies your face for a moment, "You're so beautiful." He sighs out and he watched your face light up, and feels what that does to him, scaring the fuck out of him.

You couldn't find words except, "Can I kiss you?" You breathe and he nods with hooded eyes, and before you knew it, you were surging forward to press his mouth to yours. The kiss was fierce, but he responded to it at the speed of light. His mouth moved in sync with yours before taking control of the kiss, moving closer as he stilled the chair. Your hands were shyly clutching his shoulders, careful not to mess up his hair. One hand traveled to your hip as the other massaged your thigh deeply, thumb inching its way to the inner part. Your tongues intertwine and you gasp needily when he's a mere centimeter from where you want him most. You damn near whine when his hand stops inching closer to your core making him grunt.

Jungkook nearly lost his mind when he feels your nails dig into his shoulder and your hips wiggle in the slightest. He wanted to tell you to just mess up his hair, fuck everything else, and just let him make you cum in his lap. He wants to feel what he’s doing to you, uninhibited. His hand cups your sex and you groan into his mouth. He smirks at how warm it is, how wet you must be from a little bit of kissing, and how wet you will-

KNOCK, KNOCK

You jump, effectively falling off of the chair, and onto the floor just as Hoseok walks in, "Hey Jungkookie, it is time to- Bunny?!" Before Jungkook can even reach out his hand, the older man is helping you up.

"I'm alright, just clumsy." You chuckle awkwardly, before turning to the celebrity, thanking the stars his makeup and hair aren't messed up, "Well, have a good photoshoot!" You beamed, "Let's go get some lunch, Hobi." You spoke rushedly as you took the man's hand, dragging him along.

"Oh, uh, bye!" Hoseok hollers to the dumbfounded Jungkook as he watched the dressing room door close, leaving him winded with a boner.

When you get in the car, your eyes are like saucers and Hoseok can't help his curiousity as he turns on the car. However he doesn’t push until you both are a little closer to home, but before he can even ask you grab his leg and stare at him with panicked eyes, "Fuckfuckfuckfuckwhatthefuckdid- AHHH!" You let out the quietest scream, before looking at him, "How do I go about life this stupid?" You seem to be genuinely asking and yet again, before he can ask, "I kissed Kook and I let him hold my pussy for a moment." You blurt out and Hoseok blinks for a moment. You look to him, waiting for him to freak out but he just shrugs.

"Well color me a bit envious." He muses, before tilting his head in confusion, “When you say he held you pussy-"

“He cupped it and I was gonna let him go further had you not walked in.” You looked to the man as he saw home in sight.

“Ah, I see.” He nods thoughtfully, “So were we wanting to pick something up for lunch or just order delivery, we could cook…?”

You gaped at him, "Are you not gonna tell me how dumb that was?!" Hoseok shakes his head, "He probably hates me now!" You whined.

Hoseok sighs, "I promise, he doesn't." He reassured you, "Did he… kiss back?" He asks curiously.

"Yes, but I'm not sure what he meant by it." You murmured, "I’m really bad at gathering those kinds of clues. I kissed him because he called me beautiful and I didn't know how to respond and I-"

"You're beautiful." Hoseok interjects, "My turn, my turn!" He parks the car at the house, turning to you with a grin.

"Wait, that's it!" You point to him, "You can tell me what kind of kiss that was." You beamed and he looked at you quizzically, "So kiss me and I'll show you how Kook kissed back so I can understand!"

Hoseok could not believe his ears. Had people played with your head before? Did you seriously not understand that kissing back meant that they were attracted to you, at the very least. Not wanting to take advantage of you he asked, "Are you sure? You can just describe it to me-"

You nodded, "I don’t want to misrepresent it with my words but I need to know what it meant, but if you feel weird about kissing me I get it-"

Hoseok was watching the chance slip away, so he pressed forward, placing his mouth on yours and groaned when you responded with a force, hand going to his thigh to try and mimic Jungkook's movement. Your tongue finds his way into your mouth and he can’t resist the opportunity to feel your tongue against his. His hand goes to the back of your neck to press his mouth into yours deeper. It was in no time you both forgot what you should be doing.

All you could focus on was how good the affection felt. How nice it was to have someone’s mouth on yours just as needily. You were used to sex and affection being out of convience. You were used to people seeing you willing and figuring, “Why not?” But Hoseok and Jungkook had kissed you with a certain force you had never known. Where Yoongi and JIn were soft, sweet,and comforting, they were urgent, needy, but rough.

Hoseok’s arms wrap around you, bring you into his lap and you feel his growing length beneath you. Against better judgement, you grind down, causing the both of you to gasp, “Fuck, baby.” He groans, gripping you to him harder. His leans down to kiss your jaw and reach your neck, making you press yourself further onto him with a choked moan when you feel him guide you hips as you set a steady pace grinding into him. You groan at the sensuality of hearing his voice riddled with lust and making the windows steamy and the expensive car rock.

“Hobi,” You moan out as he sucks a particular spot on your neck, “Feels good.” You whined, grinding yourself more desperately.

“It does, bunny?” He cooed into your neck, trying to shield his own rising arousal as you grind onto it desperately. You nodded with a moan and found yourself wishing he would just strip you of your clothes and take you. You would love nothing more than to feel his hands around your neck as he pounded into you, your hips working as wildly as they were then with his hands on them, threatening to limit you, edging you closer, and closer, and-

HONK

You both jumped, not able to go far in the driver’s seat on top of Hoseok after accidentally honking his car horn. You take a moment to look at the position your in and clasp your hand over your mouth, "I did it again!" You whined, muffled by your palm, "What's wrong with me, I get I'm horny but AH!" You groaned from frustration, both sexually and emotionally.

"Calm down, it's better than okay." The man beneath you strokes your hip soothingly, "I enjoyed it, and if Kook did any of that, he did too." He reassures you, "It's just some consensual kissing, we're all adults, it's okay."

You frown, "But you guys don't need me throwing myself onto you, that's not fair to you." It’s made people recoil from you, you want to say. You don’t want them to recoil from you, you couldn’t take it.

"Arguably, I do need you, in particular, throwing yourself onto me." Hoseok quipped and you rolled your eyes.

"Ha, Ha, very funny, but come on." You deadpan and it only makes him more confused. You don't know how to explain that the odds of a guy like him, or any of them, wanting you, specifically, and not just wanting affection are slim to none in your eyes, judging from past experience alone.

"What?" He asks and you shake your head.

"Ah, forget it." You shrug, "Nothing to fuss about, but sorry I nearly came in your lap-"

"Please do not apologize for something I wanted, almost happening." He groaned and you chuckled, shaking your head, genuinely not believing him, “In fact, I invite you to please hop back on.” He chuckled a bit, so you figured it was a joke. Surely he would be joking about wanting you sexually.

"You're a funny guy, Hobi." You open the door and hop out, "Well I'm gonna go masturbate or something, and then maybe we can regroup for some lunch when I'm done?" You glance up at the flabbergasted man who nods numbly, too perplexed to even offer his services, "Okay, well thank you for the kiss and what not, the affection is always welcome!" You chirped, "I can give you kisses on the lips more often if you want like I do with Jin and Yoongi?" He nods again and you smile. You give him a chaste kiss on the lips before heading inside.

Hoseok blew out a breath as he sat in his car with a hard on. So the issue wasn't you not being attracted to them. The issue was you not believing they would be attracted to you. Somehow, that was harder for him to dissect, unsure how to prove that he would give you the world if you just mentioned an interest in having it. Not just him, but six other men. To you, kissing or sexual acts wasn't proof that he was attracted to you for being you instead of just another body. They all had to somehow prove you weren't being kissed because of convenience, but desire. All of them were too emotionally stunted up until now to already know how. Yoongi was right, this would be a lot of work. Work they all were willing to do.

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